


Out of the forest into the future

by Kurun



Series: a 21st century AU [1]
Category: Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor (Video Games), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: A Few Drops of Blood, Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Amnesia, First Person, Followed by Fluff, Galadriel is okay with this, Gen, I made the fourth age the common era, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Orcs Are People, Thranduil is hopeless with technology, Thranduil is not, and other famous characters, can't write for the life of me but I'm having fun, feelings of loneliness and loss, happy end, like a lot, mentions of Rumil, mostly angst, point of view switching, reemobodiment of all elves and mortals, some hurt/comfort I guess, take my descriptions of real life problems with a grain of salt, third person, towards the end there is some suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:54:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26542519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurun/pseuds/Kurun
Summary: Thranduil has spent the last 2000 years in his halls, all alone. Celeborn comes to fetch him but another will save him from the past. Watch as Thranduil stumbles through love in a world changed beyond his recognition.
Relationships: Bard the Bowman/Thranduil, Elrond Peredhel/Thranduil
Series: a 21st century AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1930108
Comments: 5
Kudos: 22





	1. A prequel, how did we get here?

Enter the halls of the forgotten. For Thranduil was a broken king upon a splintering throne. His people had forsaken him, leaving the kingdom to be overgrown by its beloved trees and moss. Yet this was still his dominion, his home, for all eternity. Most of the day he sat unmoving, only eating when his situation got dire, merely to return to his lifeless throne afterwards. Only through the smallest of gaps in the ceiling -made by the rampant tree roots- was Thranduil reminded of the rising and setting of the sun. A long time had passed since the war of the ring, since Thranduil had become trapped in his dream, dissociating throughout the centuries, no longer fully aware of the passage of time. Letting it flow past him without assigning any meaning to it, without recollecting it. And the memories of long ago were starting to fog over, like a field being gently veiled by the year’s first snow.

Still, the king held the same disposition, leaning against the side, most of his weight of his elbow, one leg thrown over the other: arrogance and beauty preserved. And so the days kept on passing by in the woodland king’s empty halls. Till one day at the foot of his throne appeared a familiar face. 

The doors to the throne room had long since been pushed opened and unhinged by the unruly trees that invaded the king's cavernous halls and a visitor had effortlessly stepped through them, approaching the throne at a leisurely pace. 

Celeborn had become sure that coming here was the right thing to do. Even after all this time Thranduil had not faded. Still he sat upon the antlered throne like an unbeaten immortal king. He should not be left behind in a dusty closet like the antiquity he was. A king he is, one to be gently kissed awake by a prince as he is brought out into the daylight, where his platinum blonde hair and cerulean eyes shine their brightest.

Celeborn was no prince and in a fullinging relationship, but still, he would usher Thranduil back out into the world. He had taken Tranduil’s hand and guided him out of the forest, out of the past. 

The world had changed. 

/////////

I had no intention to leave my halls ever again, I must have been in a moment of weakness when Celeborn came waltzing in. Maybe it was the thoughts of her.

First we crossed the bridge, passed the bud dotted beeches, their first leaves of the spring having just opened. Then we walked on for a while through the forest, that smelt of rain and spring. I should have turned back right there, my muscles are so stiff, the light is hurting my eyes. I kept violently blinking, whilst having trouble putting one foot in front of the other. This went on for an hour.  
When we finally reached an open space Celeborn took my hand and sat me down in a metal box. It had nice leather seats, but smelt quite awful. The box seemed to glide down a solid black path that stretched out endlessly before us. I looked back to my forest that recedes further and further into the distance. To the west it seems to be taking me, as far as I have ever been since adar took me to Eryn Galen.  
The unfamiliar sensation of the carriage moving made my gut clench. Celeborn started explaining something about the harbour. Which one? At least specify you old fool. And, it being reconnected with Valinor? He was going way too fast, I don’t get it. None of this is what I had expected of the future, knowing the Vala. My eyes will be the judge of this ”bustling to valinor connected” harbour.

Upon arrival, on a square filled with similar metal boxes, I exited the carriage and followed Celeborn into the port town. The wheeled box was convenient and comfortable, but smelly and made me a bit nauseous, I much rather ride my elk. Celeborn guides me through a street filled with colorful stalls that leads to a plateau with a view over the bay. You’re not telling me, this, is supposed to be the grey havens? It must be, with it’s white towers and pillars, the well tended trees, the great elven ships and some weird smooth anvil shaped human boats filling its harbour.  
It quickly became clear to me that travelers to and from Valinor were filling its squares below: elves, dwarrows, men and even... orcs? 

preposterous! Even if as much time has passed as Celeborn assures me has, would we really get all cuddly with the enemy? I tried following them with my gaze as Celeborn guided me through some narrow streets, filled to the brim with merchants and travellers. Some dressed traditionally but most were dressed in clothing and textiles I had never seen before. Celeborn keeps talking, but I can’t discern his voice in all this noise. I start looking around again.

The orcs didn’t seem all that evil? Not enough proof for that assumption. They don't carry weapons, I see, good. Although they keep giving me weird looks. Well, naturally they have never laid their eyes on someone with such charm as myself. Of course.

The streets get busier. We passed by a silvered haired elf walking with a mortal almost as beautiful as an elf, both were wearing shapeless hooded tops with words on them and blue torn pants, one was wearing a bag over his shoulder covered in round, medal like objects. At this point we aren’t only dodging people with rolling boxes behind them, but stacks of colored containers as well. A dwarf pushes a stack onto some wheels, I peek inside: squids, not my favorite. We keep moving through the masses.

By the end of the fourth busy street, the explosion of color and scent starts to become too much for me. There must be a hundred different stalls, most selling food, most of it with a strong odor. Sometimes another seafood filled container passed us by. My halls, on the other hand, only smell like the verdant forest, adorned in muted browns and calming greens. They bring memories of happy times, with my people, with Legolas, with her. I’m violently brought back to reality by the smells and yelling merchant voices. Breathing starts taking more effort. So does thinking. My stomach clenches.

Celeborn, who walks next to me and regularly turns to me, can’t read it off my face alone. I’m really going to have to ask, don’t I?

“Celeborn, can we please sit down for a moment?” I end up saying.

“Sure, there is a nice terrace not far from here.” he answers. That sounds good. I just hope his taste isn’t as tacky as I remember it being. Not that that really matters, I just want out, now.

We make a sharp turn to the left into a deserted alleyway, instantly the noise decreases. The clench in my stomach lessens, I breathe more easily.

“If I had known what mayhem you were dragging me into I would not have followed you” I say, although there is no edge to it. I still hadn't made up my mind whether leaving had been a good thing or not. And after walking down several cobblestone alleys westwards, each quieter than the previous, I start feeling quite a bit better. We end up on an elevated little plaza with a view onto the bay, with white tables and chairs of a material I have never seen before. I walk up to it and pick it up. Really light. So, not wood, nor metal.

“It’s called plastic, a nifty material invented by the Gondorians a few decades ago. It doesn’t have the charm of wood, but it has made life easier.” Celeborn mentions as he sits down.

It hit me. The boats in the harbour, the containers held by some of the merchants in the streets, the one with the squids and the rolling boxes the travellers had must have been plastic. Then what about the materials they had been wearing? Did it have to do with the hard black roads we travelled? The metal box with the nice leather seats? the streaks in the sky? How had I been so blind! I mean I have always kept to myself but even I would have noticed that things had changed this much.

“Will you finally sit down?” came Celeborn's voice from my left.

“Have I been standing here, for several minutes, looking at this chair?” That slipped out. Shit. But I did spend 5 minutes looking at something as common as a chair.

I let go of the chair and sit down. An elf in a short sleeved attire presented himself. 

“Would you gentlemen like something to drink?” he asks, blatantly staring at me. How sad, a graceful creature stuffed into such shapeless human clothing.

“Red wine.” I order.

“Some dry white wine, please.” Is Celeborn’s request.

“One red, one dry white, coming up” The elf says as he walks off. Elegant serving it is not, things haven’t changed for the better, the wine better be good, otherwise this day will truly be ruined.

Now that I’m seated, I come to the decision that this chair is not comfortable whatsoever. Too low from the ground, the edge pokes into my upper back and the surface is uncomfortable to the touch when I move. Well, even if humans invent new things it truly isn't that impressive. I’m sure if the elv-

“Thranduil are you listening to me? I’ll only explain it once.” Celeborn just had to interrupt my thoughts, didn't he?

“Yes, yes, go on.” I end up saying thoughtlessly.

“I was discussing the orcs, right?”

“Right.” Honestly, I had no clue on what subject he was, he kept talking even when his voice got drowned out by the boisterous background noise in the harbour. I must have missed at least ten minutes of his dull monologue.

“So, when the orcs were freed of Morgoth's influence, many of them wanted to turn a new leaf. The elves were willing to forget their sins, if it meant forgiveness to all. Because of it much of history has become forgotten or fragmented. Some got too excited and burned down our libraries,” Celeborn explains. 

“So, do you remember fighting in the war together?” I ask as I was starting to get worried, this was the second time he mentioned that history is lost and elves were losing their memories. We aren’t going senile, are we? Was I going senile? Sitting on a throne all alone for over a thousand years probably is not good for the prefrontal cortex.

After a short pause, looking off into the distance, came Celeborn’s answer: “O, some of it. I vividly remember how beautiful Galadriel looked when throwing down the walls of Dol Guldur.” Which does not answer my question, now does it? And he is continuing like nothing is wrong. Our wine is served. Celeborn takes a sip. I down my glass in a single gulp and ask for another.

“The Valar stopped Ruling after Morgoth's demise, but some took this as a chance to live among the people. I know that Aule has moved into Erebor six months of the year. And that Nienna has been wandering the lands teaching its people compassion. The other Vala appear and disappear at will.” So the gods are among us? Fantastic. One more reason to not bother. At least they'll no longer tell us what to do. Eru, this chair is so uncomfortable.

“Remember, Thranduil, all deceased elves are being reembodied. Their memories are even more limited than ours. It can be seen as a good thing, they tend to be happier. Well with the exception of Feänor and his offspring, it caused some trouble, I’m sure they are fine now.” Celeborn explains

“I’m so glad those accursed noldo are running around again.” Another slip. It has been too long since my last conversation, I’m forgetting to not say everything that pops into my head out loud. I looked aside, the view of the sea was temporarily blocked by some elleth. Reëmbodiment of all the deceased...

She could be here. Maybe not everything is that bad. I have a shot at happiness outside of my home. My second glass of wine is served. Before the elf is gone I ask for another. He gives me a weird look, but seems to follow the order.

“Thranduil, do not assume it is going to be easy to find everyone, even with better communication methods it is hard to keep track of everyone, most of all the newly reëmbodied. And do not forget, reëmbodied souls are no longer bound to their soulmate and often no longer feel ties to their families.” Celeborn is frowning, making his face crease weirdly. “Mandos is emptying his halls, even mortals are being reborn, but the chance of them remembering specifics is near zero. Do not get your hopes up, yet.” Celeborn said with the most serious expression I have ever seen on his flat face. It is not a good look on him.

What was that about mortals? I didn’t properly catch that, you know, the whole thing about everyone I know being possibly in Arda. Like, adar, my comrades, so many people I've missed. I hadn’t noticed how lonely I had been, alone in my halls, yes, but even before that; I have been alone since my only son left me. I have been heartbroken since she died. 

My third glass of wine arrived. I sigh, a small quiver runs down my spine. Now that I see the state of things, of others, what will I do with myself? Crawl back into my abandoned halls? No, not yet. 

I started staring at the elleth again, clearly a sinda, like her. She sat down at a table on the other side of the small plaza. Celeborn went on about change. I zoned out. He truly has the gift of making everything so dull. Well, his company is better than none, maybe even better than many of the people I had surrounded myself with for centuries.  
Celeborn is like a cousin to me. The world's most boring cousin. He must have forgotten why he brought me here because he kept talking, sometimes more to himself than to me. It had been three glasses of wine, brought by what I now know is the café’s server, since that first monologue on... What was it? Why we can blame the orcs for our memory loss, probably.

The sun was setting. From where we are sitting it looks like a wine red orb dropping into the sea, bringing forth the last remaining form of darkness in this world. The chair is still uncomfortable and not good for my sore muscles, that is it, I’m stretching my legs! I got up, to Celeborn’s surprise. I’m not that drunk yet, you sap.

“Don’t worry, my legs merely need some exercise, I'll be back before the sun is completely under.” Turning my head I could see Celeborn nodding and then calling for the server in the hideous outfit. Celeborn wore only simple robes, only I have dressed like royalty should. 

I turned towards one of the small alleys, white walls on either side with a door in them every few meters, some had a sign over them. Even at twilight it was quite busy and out some of the open doors came laughter, from some music. There was a dwarf standing in one of the door openings, sack filled to the brink with ware on his back, many beads in his hair and beard, looking at me weirdly, how rude. A bit further down there were three orcs and a young lady, coming my way. The orcs were dressed in simple garments, the young mortal on the other hand was dressed in fine linen and a deep blue mantle.

“Lady of Rhun, coming through.” Yelled one of the shrill orc voices, as another pushes me aside, giving me a look like I’m the weird one here, guiding the mortal out of the alley in a protective triangle formation. Who would have thought, I let an orc touch me without immediately cutting its head off. Forget it, Celeborn didn't let me take any weapons with me anyway. Where did I put them again? I only have my survival knife on me, a silvery blade with leaf patterns on it and green jewels in its smooth wooden grip. A precious begettingsday gift from adar, that should be enough.

At the end, the alley of white stone houses crosses a larger street. Both of the corners have doors in them, painted a soft blue, decorated with flower-filled ceramic vessels. On the right door is a wooden sign of what looked like yarn and needles. The door on the left… Swings open. 

I dodge.

An elleth stands in the opening. Not just any elleth. It is her. My one. My only.

I have to speak up, now. She turns to me, our eyes meet, they are as bright and beautiful as I remember. She smiles! Surely this is it, the reunion I deserve. After all I have been through, I can have this, at least her. I deserve this.

Her voice, like that of the morning songbirds, just as I remembered. “Good evening. Do I know you, good sir?” I nearly stop breathing.

“Jest not dear. It is I.” I try playing it cool, with a voice as hoarse as, well, a horse.  
It feels like I got punched in the gut. I feel a shiver crawl down my frozen spine.

She looks confused, no one looks that confused looking at someone they had been married to for centuries. How funny, right? I know the elves have gone senile if even my own wife doesn't recognize me. For a fact I know I look the same, I checked the looking glass before letting Celeborn drag me outside. It’s not like I lost a lot of weight. Breathe, Thranduil!

She steps fully outside and closes the door behind her, locking it with a clutter of multi-colored keys and hairy frivolities. She wears a nearly translucent dress with pink flowers on it, showing off her arms and legs. She would never have worn such a thing in the past.  
Her hands rise to shoulder level and she puts her palms together with a soft clap, as she tilts her touching hands, her head tilts as well. She smiles again and speaks. “You must be one of the survivors.” She says. What is that supposed to mean? I start losing a little bit more of my control over my breathing, my pupils must have chased the blue out of my eyes.

“Or at least you dress like one, my good sir. I would never choose to wear something that is such a hassle to put on. It does have the charm of an age far behind us.” She says, innocently, with the same lips, the same eyes. I can’t breathe. Or am I breathing faster than before? I try my best to hold myself together. 

She is still standing there, her eyes on mine. I am living a nightmare, aren't I. The Valar no longer control us, Morgoth is dead, who did this to me? She turns to look towards the sunset, the sun is fully gone now. A smidge of color is left in the sky, the only reminder the sun had ever been there. Try breathing slower, steadier. 

I still have a chance. There is hope. I think as the muscles in my shoulders start to cramp.

“You kept me waiting” She yells, with her beautiful voice. She’d only yell like that when I messed up or forgot a promise. Please, yell at me again. I shiver. Yell at your foolish king. Please. Please!

She runs off. I beg off you, don’t leave. My eyes try to follow her movement, I turn and see. Another elf, a tall ellon, his brown hair in a braid behind his back. They’re kissing. I hear a whispered profession of love. It is the second time I’m sick today, but now it’s worse. My head hurts, I shiver again, harder. She turns and waves at me, he looks at me as well. He most definitely made a comment on my garb, she giggles. 

I keep shivering, I’m slowly losing control over my breathing. She kisses him again. I can no longer hear them, only my rushing blood and pounding heart. They walk off into the city, hand in hand, golden rings shining on their held hands. I should not have drunken any wine. I can’t control my breathing. I look around, they are gone from sight. I can no longer control the shivering nor my breathing.

For the first time again today, I am alone. Again. The pounding gets louder, my guts are being twisted.

Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Like before. My stomach clenches harder.

I stumble and wretch. I must be hyperventilating, I can’t see, no, can’t focus, no think, pressure. I think I’m falling.

Help.

///////

Thranduil isn’t one to go back on his word, Celeborn thought as he got up. He paid for their drinks and started walking in the direction Thranduil had gone. It was dark, but the recently installed electric lights started to turn on, banishing the darkness from the streets. 

Walking down the alley he sees someone crouched down. They had an appointment for the evening, but not here. Celeborn waves, The figure turns toward him with a concerned expression. Celeborn starts speeding up his pace, something has to be wrong.

Reaching his friend and former son-in-law, he realizes why Elrond has such an expression on his face. Elrond is crouched-down, rubbing circles on Thranduil’s back. Thranduil is on his knees, one hand against the wall, almost hidden from sight by two trash bins. The contents of his stomach -surprisingly little for someone like Thranduil- is in front of his knees. His breathing is loud and irregular, his eyes unfocussed. Celeborn feels like he might panic.

“I found him like this about two minutes ago. I don’t know what caused this. He needs to be calmed down and moved to a safe place.” Elrond spoke, his voice tinged with worry, although his face was set back into its usual seriousness. You think you’ll never see someone again, then when you get the chance, you find them having a severe panic attack in a back-alley somewhere, typical, Elrond thought.

“Thranduil can you hear me? Are you okay?” Celeborn said as he sank through his knees with one hand touching the clean smooth cobblestones next to Thranduil. His face filled with worry, though Elrond’s words calmed him little.

Thranduil looked at him, but gave no vocal response. His breathing is fast and loud.

“Thranduil, can you stand? I’m going to take you to my hotel room and run a medical check, okay?” Said Elrond, as he held onto Thranduil’s empty hand. With the other he continues to rub circles on Thranduil’s back. It takes a moment but Thranduil starts puting some of his weight on Elrond’s hand and gets up. Elrond gets up with him and uses the sleeve of the hand that stopped rubbing the forest king’s back to wipe away the drool and rests from Thranduil’s mouth. He is pale, but his breathing is starting to calm down. His spaghetti legs need Elrond's continued support.

Celeborn and Elrond nod at each other and the three of them start walking towards the hotel. On the way Thranduil seems to calm down. His pace is slow, but his muscle tension is lessening. His breathing was almost completely back to normal.

//////

I wake up crying. Haven’t done that in quite a while, the last time was. “Gulp.” When she died.

“Screw this, I’m going back to the forest, pretend none of this ever happened.” I yelled maybe slightly too loud, because I saw none other than Elrond Erudamn Peredhel appear in the door opening. I quickly looked around. I don’t remember going to bed, in this room, I don’t remember him being here. I don’t remember anything after her.

“Pretend what never happened?” Says the Peredhel. Who has the audacity of not only entering my room, but to sit down next to the bed. Why is there a stool there? At least, it’s a wooden one. Good, they haven't gone extinct yet.

“Nothing.” I answer, way too slowly, way too late.

“Is it why you are crying? Is it why I found you puking your guts out yesterday?” The churlish lord seemed to be enjoying his position of power.

“I did not!” Surely, I did not. Wiping a hand passed my tear stained eyes.

“I’m sorry, my friend, but it seems you did.” Celeborn entered the room and came to a standstill behind Elrond, remaining standing. Good to see this old sock hasn’t abandoned me yet.

“As a medical expert and as your friend I want to know what happened yesterday.” Elrond leans forward till barely any distance is left between us.

“I’m not your friend.” I whisper sharply. He either didn’t hear, with his shitty Peredhel hearing or the ass is ignoring me. Don’t ignore me. Dammit, I can’t help but give in. I need more information. I should have paid more attention to when Celeborn was explaining. I need to get this off my chest. 

“I met my wife, she didn’t recognize me, she was with another. I had too much wine, I couldn't breathe and now I’m here. Good enough for you?” I said, bitterly, but deep down it felt good having said it. Yet now that I said it out loud, it meant it must be true, she belongs to another; I no longer have her heart.

Maybe my anger and sadness showed on my face a little too much, because I could see some of it reflect on Elrond. Celeborn on the other hand only looked sad, he stared out the window, obviously not wanting to be part of the conversation anymore.

Elrond spoke: “Listen Thranduil, when they died their ties to the living broke. And since the Valar ceased ruling they didn’t bother retying soulmates. Their love is no longer ours and we are left alone, half of a soul.” 

“We?” I wondered. Clearly he said dead, I’m the only one here who had a case of “dead wife”, none of you can relate. I wanted to get up, walk, think about it. Making the nasty feeling in my gut go away.

A hand pushed me back into bed. Rude, do it again, please. Instead Elrond starts talking again: “When I said goodbye to Celebrian, I thought it temporary, for I would soon join her, we were going to live near Tirion together.” He continued, I barely detected the wavering of his voice. “She did not survive the journey, Thranduil. When I arrived upon the eastern shore of Valinor, I found out she was an inhabitant of the halls of Mandos.” Elrond’s stoney face seemed unmoved, but in his eyes there was an old sadness.“So I waited. Waited and waited, for 1900 years. When she finally came out with all the others, during the emptying of the halls of Mandos, she was already holding the hand of another” Elrond, that Elrond, who’s emotional range seemed so darn small, was so close to yelling his voice was an octave higher making hissing noises it seemed. Quite imposing. I swallowed and nodded. Guess that does make two of us.

/////

After getting reacquainted, Celeborn, Elrond and Thranduil, a close knit trio, all moved temporarily to Lothlorien. Celeborn’s normal job as a diplomat led to him travelling the world quite often. Had taken a few weeks off to look after Thranduil. His estimation that Thranduil was going to take up more than two weeks of his time had been correct. Thranduil did have a flair for the dramatic and a streak of bad luck.

Galardiel, ever as beautiful, ever as powerful, had spent until F.A. 1500 in Aman, it was then the Valar stopped ruling. She returned in time, for shortly after humanity started blooming, going through enlightenment. She had been on the elven forefront of change, including giving up memories for the forgiveness of the orcs, she even burnt her diary.

Elrond had returned from Valinor around a hundred years ago hoping to go on without Celebrian and learn the new medical arts humans had been developing. Lothlorien wasn’t the best place for learning a human trade, 80% of the population was elven, only Tirion and Imladris had a higher percentage of elven inhabitants. But Celeborn and Galadriel had been good to him, even after their daughter had left him a second time.

Thranduil was doing better, he says. Lothlorien, though modernized, reminds him of home. He spends most of his time learning about the changes the world has gone through, slowly. 

During this time Thranduil stuck close to Elrond, Thranduil had even made the demand that they share housing in Lothlorien. Elrond eagerly accepted, anything to keep the loneliness at bay. That clearly made two of them. Sharing a tragedy and being of the few that remember not only the war of the ring, but the last alliance as well, made them want to stick close. Elves had forgotten, were no longer in the process of forgetting, still, better to remind each other.

Phones, cars, planes, Thranduil just didn’t get it. There was so much to learn and adapt to and Thranduil needed more time. How did any of it work? He soon found out: most elves don’t know, they just accept it. Only the smart ones like Elrond had a deeper understanding. It took quite a bit of wine and embarrassing stories from long ago, but Elrond confessed to not understanding how radio- and microwaves work. It felt like a small victory for Thranduil.

Time seemed to fly by. 

Celeborn was going back to work, to a convention in former Mordor on the innate force of evil within all living things. The opening speech would be given by an Uruk named Khrosh the speaker. Thranduil was very happy he didn’t have to go with Celeborn, he’d rather do all of Galadriel's chores then set foot in Mordor. Elrond was too busy with his PhD to go. 

Elrond was almost finished with his studies and research, in a month he would go to Gondor to publish his research and get his first doctorate degree. He had fallen into a rhythm of working sixteen hours a day. His sleeping schedule was an enigma to his friends.

Thranduil, on the contrary, had done nothing, really.  
His routine had been nearly the same for the last few weeks. 

He’d wake up late in the morning, because of it he would eat breakfast alone in the great hall on the dais that Celeborn and Galadriel still inhabited. Afterwards he’d go back to his and Elrond’s rooms in the guest wing. Elrond had already left. There he’d sit around for a while, like he had done all those years in his halls. He’d sit like that until his thoughts got too unruly and repetitive. It would probably be around five in the evening, it was summer so it was not like the sun was close to setting.  
He’d go down into the city that was now mostly situated on the ground. The Mallorn trees were turned into apartment complexes, the forest floor into a maze of roads and buildings. There Thranduil would search for one of the many acquaintances of Celeborn. Most were rebodies or rb’s, the terms used by the reëmbodied to describe themselves, Thranduil they would refer to as: survivor, old body or even atiq, short for antiquity. It was clear that the inhabitants of Mandos far outnumbered the still living in middle earth and they had decided to look down on most atiqs.

Today Thranduil visited a restaurant owned by one of these acquaintances, Rumil, former marchwarden of Lothlorien and rebody. He had very few memories and seemed happier because of it. Rumil would spend the evening explaining modern concepts to Thranduil, today’s subject was: categorization of academic subjects and recently developed definitions surrounding the sciences and humanities. Not like Thranduil got any of that.  
Like every evening spent outside of the safety of his house, Thranduil would hear jokes made at his expense and at least once or twice someone would call him a useless atiq. He’d keep his head up and make a snide remark at whoever had the guts to face him. At the end of the evening, around nine, he’d call it a day and crawl back home, often pausing by a bar, but most often stopping in Galadriel’s kitchen to raid the wine cellar. A bottle or two later it would be eleven. Which is time for Thranduil to go to bed, often sobbing, shivering or reliving nightmares of the past. The night felt endless and hollow, sleep was far from his grasp and Thranduil knew that tomorrow, he would not get up early, again.

Only once had he broken that routine. He had drunkenly broken into the royal kitchen and made a mess. Which led to Galadriel punishing him by making him cook on several occasions for her, Celeborn and Elrond. Secretly he had enjoyed it, to do something simple and useful, to see everyone smile when his dish was a success. Elrond in particular loved the recently mastered quiche. He had been a king, is a king, but he had learned his kingdom was no longer on the map, a forest and no more. Even worse, there were no kings anymore, not Dale or Gondor, not Erebor nor Lothlorien. All had switched to democracy except for the reinstated high-king of the Noldor: Finwe, a rebody.

Thranduil started having bouts of sadness since leaving the forest, since seeing her again, like the sea longing that no longer affected his people. Sometimes it was simply a gut feeling, a sense of unease. Sometimes there were thoughts, loud ones. “Everyone you love has forgotten you.” A voice in his head would scream. “You have lost your place, no one needs you any longer.” Another would whisper.

Elrond hadn’t noticed. Until, one night, after working for 20 hours straight he entered the wrong room.

The first thing he noticed was the silent sniffling coming from the king size bed. He walked over and lifted the covers. There he found a curled up ball topped with platinum. Shivering, crying.

“O, by Orome’s wrath, I should have known” Elrond whispered at himself. Elrond was tired, exhausted even, not willing to take another step. Maybe it wasn’t the exhaustion. Elrond entered the bed, big enough for four, but moved all the way to the curled up king and hugged him, gently caressing his head.

“I’m here. It will be okay.” Elrond whispered. The ball shook less erratically. Elrond kept moving his hand, Thranduil ceased his sobbing. Before they knew it they had both fallen deeply asleep and had lied in each other's arms till the sun rose again.

///////////

The days were starting to get tiring, the days I would cook, less so than the days I felt like I would fall apart. I convinced Elrond to stay in my room. I would make sure he got enough sleep and he made sure I got some too, he has his uses. 

Celeborn has been gone for a month now, for a diplomatic mission on the southern continent and before that he was only home for half a day before leaving for a meeting in Alqualonde. He had the weirdest conversation with Elrond before leaving, not that they knew I was standing around the corner.

“We will miss you you know, but mostly Thranduil.” I think Elrond said. Not like that is true. 

“He needs you.” Elrond said next, no clue what that is supposed to mean.

Celeborn’s answer was and I quote: “No, he needs you, o played out prince.” Celeborn was standing closer by and at least didn’t speak with his face buried in a book. He then left the room and Elrond finally lifted his head out of his book to yell after him. “Of what? Doriath? Numenor? Gondolin?”

I did start missing my stale fairy godfather. Moreover without him I can no longer stand Galadriel’s attitude. I find the way she gave up the past repulsive. How can she leave it behind, act like none of it happened? All those wars, forgotten. It does sound peaceful. Galadriel was one of the lucky few, her brothers and parents remember her, her husband is by her side. Her daughter who did not recognize Elrond, remembered her own parents. And that happiness of hers, she keeps trying to push it unto me. Making me wear modern clothes and giving me a cellphone isn’t happiness. This is her world, not mine, I don’t have a place here.

Elrond was soon going to leave for Minas Tirith, Gondor. I don’t want to be left alone again. I don’t want to be trapped in this unhomely city.

“Thranduil, can you take my suitcase with you on your way down?” Came Elrond's request from the living room. Now is my chance. I grabbed not only Elrond’s suitcase but the one I had packed for myself as well, mine was much smaller and lighter. I came down the stairs. Halfway down I could see Elrond pacing through the room.  
Elrond was dressed in a light grey woollen blazer, a white blouse peeking out from underneath, with slightly darker grey flat front pants. It suited his dark hair and grey eyes well, but it was not a sight I was used to, Elrond in something this modern. It did make me a little happy to see him wear the brooche from his robe on his breast, a design that could truly only be elven.

Once I was downstairs his eyebrow lifted slightly at the sight of the second suitcase. “That one isn’t mine.” said Elrond. 

“I know, it’s mine.”

“You're either going out on your own, which I know you are not ready for. Or did you think you could sneak onto the plane with me?” Damn, I was sure that he would be elated about me going with him. This is not going as planned. 

“I have to go with you, you need me!” I needed to come up with a reason for him to take me. Quick. Think.

“You can barely take care of yourself in this safe environment, what would happen to you in a city like Minas Tirith. If you’re lucky you’ll be swindled, if you are unlucky you’ll end up being elf-trafficked. I will be fine, you will not.” He said all that without that stony face of his changing expression. At least act like you care, you elven equivalent of watching paint dry.

He’ll leave you if you don’t follow, like her, like Legolas. I gulp. That’s it: Legolas.

“Legolas is in Minas Tirith, I’m sure of it.” I was bluffing. I had no clue where Legolas had gone. He visited once after the war and then I never heard from him again. But surely I had said this with reason. Now that I had said it I believed it. “I want to find Legolas. Elrond, take me to Gondor with you. I will suffocate in this city if you leave me behind. ” He is leaving, this is my last chance.

“Fine” but don’t make any trouble, Elrond sighs, on his face the tiniest of smiles.

“I would never.”


	2. Good decisions & bad decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter on two decisions made by Elrond and Thranduil. One gave them everything and one took everything away.

We moved to Gondor, best decision of our life.

Elrond has been earning quite a bit. I, on the other hand, was lucky that none had entered my halls since I had left. My wealth was still there, a heaping pile of gold and gems. I took some, leaving some in case Adar needs some. What more did I take? Some clothing, some small trinkets, oh, and in the end I didn’t find my swords, too bad. Elrond says that weapons are forbidden anyway, one of the many changes of the world, I guess. A blade has no use in a world without enemies. 

We lived in a large apartment in upper Minas Tirith, it was an affluent neighbourhood in a city that now flowed far outside of its walls but we were safely within them. It had three bedrooms, but we only used one. The design was far too modern for my taste and it didn’t have a garden. I much rather would have lived in the palace but its been renovated to parliament, museum and archive. Not very liveable any more. Plus Elrond didn’t want to be any closer to it, he still remembers that pain intensely, well I guess I can live with this. We had been living there for three weeks when Elrond’s PhD ceremony took place. He had grabbed my hand and asked if I would be there. I couldn’t really say no at that point. And it had been a good thing.

Nearing the end of the ceremony I got lost looking for the toilets. I walked through a classroom filled hallway on the other side of the university building in my search when the clock struck four. Several doors swung open and over a hundred students poured into the hallway. Among them every race I could think of. In that crowd was a head of blond hair that could only belong to one person. My breathing quickened as I had ignored the still lingering pain of my last rejection for this single chance. I ran through the crowd and grabbed a hold of his shoulder. He turned as the hallway quickly emptied. There had been recognition in his eyes. 

“Ada?” Relief flooded my veins. I cried. Yes, my little leaf, I am here, please never leave again.

We sat down on a bench in the hall and talked it over, all of it. He was sad hearing about his mother and was happy that his ada finally got his ass off that dusty throne, rude. But all is forgiven, Legolas remembers who I am, because in the end, he had never died. After calling over newly appointed dr. Elrond we came to an agreement. Legolas would come live with us. It would be merrier for us and cheaper for Legolas who had been living on campus.

The coming of Legolas brought us even more. Legolas happened to know where Elrond’s children had gone.

So the three of us got in the car that I was now more familiar with, to pick up the twins and Arwen, who had been living in a small town in the south of Gondor. We arrived and Galion opened the door for me. Galion, who I had found on the short trip back to my halls. He was still willing to serve me, although he wanted a raise to make up for inflation. Gondor, best decision.

It was a small village: a few farm houses, a well, mud everywhere, how rustic, compared to Minas Tirith. 

Legolas spent the trip explaining he had sailed West around F.A. 120, where he had lived with Gimli until he died of old age at 342. He had wandered Aman for several centuries, but with his sea-longing satisfied and his best friend dead he returned to middle-earth. He had travelled far and seen much but his spirit, rejuvenated in the undying lands, remained young and spry. He started attending university this summer, since “getting a job is essential” and “an elf without a diploma is nothing in this world”. Somehow being king for two ages is no longer a qualification? What has the world come to. It truly seems like I am a stranger in the foreign lands of the future.

In the meantime Elrond had asked around and found a cottage inhabited by none other than his three children. Elladan and Elrohir had been spending the last few decades here after they found their reëmbodied sister wandering on the banks of Nimrodel after visiting grandmother Galadriël. It had been Arwen’s intention as well but she couldn’t remember her way around the forest. Arwen’s memories were few but she recognized her brothers and her father. Just like me she needed time to adapt. At least she had already learned how to drive a car and make an online purchase, unlike me.

We were all ecstatic and decided to stay together in Minas Tirith, finally the empty beds and rooms had been filled. I enjoyed cooking all those meals more than I had anything else in over two thousand years.

/////

It has been nearly a year, we moved to Dale, maybe not the best decision ever.

Elrond’s job and subsequent research took us to Dale, which like Minas Tirith, had exploded into a large commercial centre. Once again our wealth allowed us to be closer to the former centre of power.  
We had bought a two story free-standing house. I chose it because the wooden details felt familiar to the elven style, which in this city they call “art nouveau”, the word isn’t even elvish. But the brick colored like ripe apricots, which was the tradition style of Dale and elvish curves of the wooden details, such as the gate, in combination with the tree filled garden made my heart clench with homesickness. I wasn’t alone. Not anymore.

Legolas sat down at the breakfast table with us and made an unexpected statement.

“Travelling between here and Minas Tirith would be too troublesome to do everyday, so I’m moving back to campus for my second year of landscaping & forestation.I can now properly afford it with the funds you gave me.” Huh? What, why?

“Little leaf, we only just started living here, together, after all this time.” I tried saying without trembling.

“I’m going,” Legolas said determinedly.

“Let him go Thranduil, he is more than old enough to make his own decisions,” Elrond supported him, without looking out of his newspaper. I tried not showing it, but it hurt. It hurt more than the first time, because now I knew fully well how much his absence would sting. My head is starting to hurt, I need a drink.

That evening I waited for the others to go to bed and entered the kitchen. I sat down and sighed. I opened the first bottle and thought of Legolas. Why does he keep leaving, I never left my Adar. Till he died. The bottle was empty. A tear rolled down my face as I relived his death, again. Again. 

I opened a second bottle, I thought of Elrond and his children. Were they going to leave? By the last drop I was convinced they would. Yeah! They’ll leave, clearly they all do. “Thennnn leavee.” I nearly screamed. Right, they're sleeping. Shouldn't I be sleeping? My head hurts. I think of her. I cry.

My head hurts, stop shaking. I open my eyes to an angry Elrohir.

“What are you doing in the kitchen, why is there such a mess?” He interrogated. To me it didn’t seem that bad. I have just forgotten some pans in the sink, and a pack of snacks I had opened. Okay, and some glasses. And the bottles that I had emptied in them. It is not that bad, surely.

Elladan walks in kicking over an empty bottle. “Thranduil, you haven't seriously been here all night drinking?” What else did he think I was doing here? What a dumb question, although I at least should have gone to bed last night. My head hurts too much, I don't want to answer. I feel a ringing going through my skull.

“Does father know?” I don't know which of the two said that.

“I don’t know.” I finally grunt. Not the best answer, but they huff and finally leave me in my miserable silence.

I was supposed to do the washing, but couldn't get the machine to work, I nearly ruined more of my clothing. I was going to get groceries but got lost, again. I’ll ask Galion to deliver them to the house. Well, I’ll just go pick Arwen up from her job and call it a day, at least I know where that is. Arwen has been making use of that face of hers, freakishly close as it is to resembling Luthien, who apparently is now a world famous opera singer. I turn left, at the park I go straight and there we are: Dale modelling international. The sleek mirroring building screams for attention. On it is a giant screen that shows off the adds their models work for, after a while Arwen displaying a ring and necklace by Oakenshield inc. pops up.

I walk into the white reception hall, a crystal chandelier hanging above me, on both sides I am surrounded by pictures of elves that I out shine. Once again I am getting looks from all around. They have asked me before, the first time I went to get Arwen. I would model myself, if it wasn’t as much of a bother. And time consuming. And if the lights were less hot and less annoying. It seems even worse now that I feel hungover. I enter the studio Arwen should be in. And she is. Along with a scruffy looking mortal. I’m getting flashbacks, I have seen this before, at least I haven't been drinking today, yet.

“Arwen, we are going. Now” I call into the room. She turns to me, kisses the man on the cheek and comes my way, the bad feeling gets worse. On the way home she barely speaks. Only when the front door is in sight she tells me: “If you want to hold on to what we have now, you will not tell father.”

I haven’t started drinking yet, still, I seem to be getting nauseous at her words. It appears my gut feeling was right, this might be bad.

That evening I do end up drinking. But it’s with Elrond so it doesn’t count. We talk about the past, about love. We talk about Dol Goldur and laugh at the bad memories of a place that is now even with the ground, It makes me feel warm inside. I don’t want the evening to end, but Elrond thinks differently of it. Don’t go, there are still things left unsaid. Elrond gets up. I desperately don't want you to go, please. So I slip up. “Did I tell you yet about Arwen today? You are going to want to hear this.” I end up saying anyway. I regret it already. But Elrond sits back down and our moment continues. I need another drink. I reach for my glass but Elrond grabs my hand.

“You’ve had enough. Now what is this about Arwen?” He says, I think. I look at our hands, touching. It feels so warm, I didn’t realise the world had gotten so cold. I can't not tell him at this point and I'm too tired to lie. Right, the story. So I begin: “Like I do every Tuesday I went to pick Arwen from the agency.”

“When we left she kissed him on the cheek.” The end of a very sluggish account of events. The moment is gone. And so is Elrond. I miss the warmth I think as I stare at my empty hand.

Oh no. 

I don’t hear anything till the weekend when I hear yelling come from Elrond's study. Something about “not losing you to him again.” Something was beeing yelled back at mere moments later Arwen stormed out the front door. The boys are out. Legolas didn’t come home for the third week in a row. A book flew past me as I entered, it hit the wall on the other side of hallway with a dull "baf". He was furious, I was starting to panic. I have faced the serpents of the north, but Elrond is a different breed all together. His face, a shadow of his former calm self, red with veins popping up. He is facing me now. Walking towards me at a fast pace. What do I do? Someone is going to get hurt, Against Elrond my chances aren't guaranteed, it might be me who gets hurt. So I do the unexpected. When he has nearly reached me, I take a step forward. Our lips meet. Silence. We calmed down. We’re doing that more often now. It didn’t keep Arwen from eloping, going off our radar. And it started to get the twins worked up.

They don’t like me, they never did. But now I’m becoming that which their mother was, Elrond’s anchor, his stability. They wanted nothing to do with me. It’s when Elrond tried defending me from his own sons, that they raged. 

/////

“You replaced her, because you're weak.” Yelled Elladan. His face had turned red.

“You weren’t even sure she was with another, instead you chose this cheap whore!” Elrohir roared after his brother, pointing at Thranduil, who was halfway down the living room stairs.

“You will not speak of him like that. We have suffered like none should ever, yet here we are, stronger together.” Elrond spoke calmly, although the veins on his forehead were popping up.

“I understand it’s hard. I'll make a nice souffle for dinner.” Thranduil tried negotiating. He would have yelled at the youths, but he really didn’t want to make Elrond even more unhappy than he was after Arwen had left him for a mortal, again.

“Is that the only thing you're good for? You can’t even clean. You aren’t even a competent house wife, you jobless tramp!” Elladan yelled at Thranduil, who stiffened in shock. 

But before Elrond could respond, Elrohir screamed: “I wished you had remained in your forest, rotting for eternity, you miserable house infestation. Waste of Space!” 

Thranduil who was already frozen in place stopped breathing for a moment. Elrond saw Thranduil turning pale and lost it: “Out! You ungrateful brats, out of my house, I did not raise you to disrespect my feelings like this.”

“Your feelings for our mother, not for him” The twins hissed, leaving the room. The sound of the front door being thrown shut followed.

Thranduil could breathe again, barely. He walked down the stairs, one unstable leg in front of the other. Once down, Elrond embraced him. Thranduil was shaking, but Elrond was as well. They had been left, again.

The two spent the evening on the couch in each other's arms. Only the sounds of the low volume tv and snivelling could be heard in the house.

///////

Nothing was broken except hearts. We all said something we didn’t mean that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of the end of the story set up. The next chapter will finally introduce Bard.  
> I hope you enjoyed it, even just a little.


	3. Fulfilling encounter

Thranduil is a moderately happy elf in his 21st century life. He is proud of his son Legolas, a straight-A student, although he doesn’t visit that often anymore. Though not his own children, he is proud of Elladan and Elrohir, who left to find a job back west and are properly taking care of themselves. And he is proud of Arwen as well, who found the love of her life, made up her mind and ran. There has been no news of them, but Thranduil is sure they are fine. But the proudest he is of Elrond, who in a short time became the world's most renowned neurosurgeon. He works twelve hours a day saving lifes, even travelling around the world to do his job.

Even though Thranduil is so proud of all of them he still slips into his bouts of melancholia. He still had not met his reëmbodied father. His wife had reëmbodied and because of it, chosen to marry another. He was left home alone quite often and found no hobbies that brought him joy, other than cooking for his family that was never home.

So he drinks, lots, mostly at home, alone.

But tonight he went out.

/////

I know that the business needs to expand and Dale is a nice place, but why Ratbag? Ratbag has been loyal, working hard. And now Ratbag has to spend all day round these tarks and pointy eared pains. Talion could have sent Borgu or Dûsh, better yet, he could have gone himself. They don’t serve any good grog in this town either.

This street is well lit but empty except for some men and an elf, who just left one of the bars, quite the formally dressed one. He probably remembers what orc blood smells like. Well, Ratbag survived the war, Ratbag will survive this. Ratbag is not scared of some pointy ear.

The elf gets closer, swerving a bit. He’s less than a caragor’s leap away. He looks at Ratbag, he swerves, his hands go to his hips. Not like any of us carry weapons, even left me beloved knives home. 

“I can't not cut this filthhh. I slayed your kind, the orcs, here, in this town, he-reee.” The elf slurs.The elf goes pale and nearly falls backwards. He seems really thrown off by his lack of weapons. He goes paler. The fellow is getting scared, ain’t he, seeing ghosts and shrak. The pointy eared fellow, pale as sheet, turns, nearly hits the wall and starts running. And Ratbag thought the bright lord was off?

///////

After the sports committee meeting I let myself get dragged to a Gondorian style bar by Percy, head of the swimming club, and the racket-sport committee members. I enjoyed the evening up to this point. Until Alfrid, who owns a local casino and hates sports like it is a disease, decided to show up. Dressed in fake looking tiger fur and brown boots that are reminiscent of crocodile leather, he walked in with his hair slicked back, grinning to show off his golden tooth. It took a while, but I said my goodbyes and slipped out. Last time we drank in the same pub it nearly ended in a fist fight and a lawsuit. Never get into fights with ugly people, they have nothing to lose. I giggle as I think of Alfrid’s ugly mug. I’m not particularly handsome but Alfrid makes a toad look like prince charming.

It is already dark but that was to be expected of hanging out in a bar for three hours after work. I put my hands in my pockets and turn the corner. It is also a lot colder now, winter is arriving after all. Should’ve bought a thicker coat, I can afford it. No, I better save my money in case I need it, or if the kids need it. If I save up know, I might be able to buy Tilda and Sigrid the newest-

“Ugh”, the air gets knocked out of my chest. Someone must have ran into me. For a moment I stumble, having lost my balance, but quickly both of my feet are safely back on the ground. Now, for what I hit. I feel a pull on my coat. I look down to access the culprit. It is. Well, it’s. 

It is beautiful. Bend over before me is what I can only assume is an elf. With one hand they hold onto my coat. Did they fall over? 

I try helping them stand upright. Almost a fourth of the population in Dale is elven, but none compare to the one in front of me. With alabaster skin, pale blond hair, dressed in thick layers of traditional elven garb, they are tall and breathtaking. And crying? They seem to fall forward and throw their arms around my neck. As an automatic response I close my arms around their back.

I am at a loss for words. What do I do? I've never held a creature that seemed to be spun of starlight in my arms before, even worse, they’re crying. Is it a bad sign if elves cry? I’ve never seen one cry before. Then again I don’t have a lot of eleven acquaintances.  
“Please don’t leave.” Murmured the elf after a while. They sounded so sad. Pushing our shared weight I move us to a bench near the street light. In the light I can better appreciate the creature's fine features. Their pink lips, dark eyebrows, blue eyes, reddish face. Are they drunk? I close in and breathe in through my nose. That’s alcohol alright. Well, vodka isn’t always the answer. But it’s worth a shot. I giggle to myself.

They seem quite far gone. They don’t seem to be in a state to drive or even point me in the direction of their home. I’m practically dragging the drunkest, prettiest elf I’ve ever seen to my house. I think back to my jokes, Alcohol puns are always in pour taste. I laugh. 

Here I am with a drunk elf on my arm laughing at my own jokes, I’m sure the kids would be disappointed. I wait for the traffic light to turn green. An expensive car passed by us and finally we can safely cross the road. I turn left and enter into my street filled with rows of terraced houses. With one hand around the elf and one hand holding my keys I open my door and enter my cosy little home. I put the elf on the couch in the living room and go get a glass of water. 

Upon my return I find the elf vast asleep. It has something sad to it, a being as beautiful and powerful all alone in my living room. My heart aches as I step forward and let my hand run over their exposed cheek. It’s soft, but still wet from their tears.

What could they have been crying about? I wonder as I go to my bedroom. I already know I’m not going to sleep tonight, my thoughts have been overrun by the elf lying in my living room.

/////

My head is going to burst, my muscles are sore and I feel nauseous. The smell of burnt eggs and bacon is nice but it makes me sick. Burnt.

Fire. I jump up, ready to fight, ready to flee. I look around. No fire, but one very cluttered small living room. The tv is surrounded by dvd boxes, everywhere there are articles of clothing. In the corner stands a plant sitting on death’s door. What a pig stall this place is. But it is not my house, nor Galion’s, nor any of Elrond's friends' houses.

The burning smell becomes stronger. Fighting against my nausea I approach the source. I turn a corner and end up in a small kitchen, just as cluttered as the living room. In it stands: “Bard Bowman?!” The scruffy brunette turns to me, he still wears that hideous moustache and his hair in the same lazily tied fashion, or is it again? His grey-brown eyes meet my blue ones.

“Oh, am I that famous among the elves? Well most of the non-course members are elves after all, although I don’t recognize you from our members list,” Bard replies with a smile. Am I dreaming? Living in a nightmare? Bard has been dead for, for at least... Right. Mados, the emptying of the halls. I sigh, this wasn’t good for my headache, the smoke coming off of the stove in front of him was making it worse as well.

“And who might you be? I assume you’re a rare survivor.” Bard asks, his face slightly more serious. Now that I look at him, he seems to be wearing a white shirt, that at this point, is anything but white and a pair of jeans that look like they have already served a lifetime, seems he’s gotten back into his un-kingly ways. 

“This isn’t the first time you've taken strangers home, now is it, Bowman?” I say as I cross my arms and make myself tall enough to look down on him. If he thinks he can make me miserable by forgetting about me as well, he’ll get what he has coming. I turn and take a step out of the kitchen back into the living room.

The burning smell seems to have lessened, from the corner of my eye I see Bard grab two plates. He hands me one. It has some black and brown things on it. I assume, the bacon and eggs.

“You didn’t answer the question. And what do you mean by not the first time?” Bard says as he sits down at a small table near a window, where the kitchen and living room meet. 

“Thranduil Oropherion, king of Mirkwood.” I respond as I walk towards an open seat opposite of Bard. “You’ve once aided a company of dwarves by letting them stay in your house.” I take a bite of the food. Completely inedible. 

Bard points at the food, “well you know, have to break a few eggs to make breakfast.” I giggle a little, it seemed to make Bard smile.

“But I really can’t put my finger on it.” Bard starts wondering out loud. What a drag, he couldn't even be bothered to remember his ally. “I do remember there being a dwarf related incident, long ago.” He continues to think out loud.

That is it. The headache, the food, Bard. One problem at a time. First, food. I get up whilst Bard is still deep in thought and wander into his kitchen. What do I know? Stove, same type as I’m used to. Fridge, okay, he still has some eggs, vegetables and other ingredients. 

“Isn’t Mirkwood the forest nearby?” Bard asks from the table. I don’t even feel like answering, I only used that name because it was the one he was most like to remember. Focussing back on the task at hand. I’ve put the beaten eggs in the pan, the edges are starting to brown, good. I add the leftover bacon, some chives I found, some pepper and cheese. I fold the omelet and plate it.

Bard seemed to have a revelation in the meantime. “The woodland king! You fought in the battle of the five armies. We fought in the battle of five armies.” He turns to me, there truly seems to be some recognition in his eyes. Two problems solved at once. Bard hands me some aspirin as I sit down. Three problems solved.

During breakfast we spoke little, but sometimes Bard would ask about the past and I would answer. When we were done Bard asked why I was drunk. None of his business. I felt like leaving, I got up.

“Give a man a duck and he’ll eat for a day. Teach a man to duck and he’ll never walk into a bar.” Bard said grinning. Before I could stop myself I was laughing hysterically. Had Bard always been this funny? It took me a minute, but I finally caught my breath. Bard still sits at the table grinning from ear to ear. Jerk.

Bard grabbed his phone, “right, I have to teach in an hour, so I’ll have to kick you out soon, your majesty.” I like how he refers to me, the same backtalk as all those years ago. Right, phone. I have one. I haven’t looked at it yet. I turn it on and see. 

Elrond: 1 missed call, 0 voicemails, 2 messages.

20:56 “When are you getting home?”

03:05 “Where are you?”

Damn, I had forgotten, Elrond would come home last night, I thought I would be alone all week. “Bowman, seems I have to leave as well” I announce to Bard whilst making my way to the door of his small house, too small for a king.

“Thanks for the food and come meet me on the sport-fields, if you have time this week. Have a good day, Thranduil.” Bard calls after me.

“Good day to you as well, Bowman.” The door closes behind me. I am alone again. I should get home.

/////

For the last three days Thranduil had spent the evening texting Elrond about his loneliness. Elrond had taken pity on him and cut his work trip short to return home. Upon return he would normally be greeted by Thranduil preparing a hot meal but the house was empty.

Elrond waited, he texted Thranduil. 

By eleven he had finished reading his book and was too hungry to start with the next instalment in the series. He heated up a microwave meal and ate in silence. Afterwards he went to his study and finished some work.

Elrond sighed and looked at the clock. Damn, it’s already three in the morning, Elrond thought. He grabed his phone, Thranduil hasn’t seen his text yet, he send a second text. Once in bed he checked his phone again, still nothing. Elrond slept uneasily that night.

The next morning Galion comes by to deliver some groceries, since Thranduil often has trouble doing it himself. As Elrond thanked him, he asked: “Did you drive Thranduil into town yesterday?”

“I did drive his majesty into town, but I did not find him at the appointed location later that evening.” Galion stated. Elrond started to worry, Galion continued: “I think I saw him with a mortal later in the evening when driving around. I did not have the opportunity to stop at that time and when I returned to that area they were no longer there.”

“I see.” Elrond responded with a blank face. Inside his thoughts were whirling. Was Thranduil okay? Who was it? Why hasn’t he responded to the text messages yet?

Galion took his leave for the day and not much later the missing individual waltzed through the door. His appearance was nowhere nearly as pristine as normally, his robes were crooked, his hair was tangled and his eyes were red. Before Elrond could say anything, Tranduil had walked up to him, tenderly kissed him on the cheek and entered the kitchen.

Inside the kitchen Elrond saw Thranduil take an immaculate cut of wagyu from the fridge and cut it into cubes, adding it to a honey soy sauce marinade, readying a true feast. What questions Elrond had had mere moments ago, he no longer felt the need for answers, he felt peace in his heart. Once Thranduil had finished his dinner preparation, he invited Thranduil upstairs for an afternoon nap by offering his hand. Thranduil gladly took up the offer and Elrond’s hand. They left the kitchen hand-in-hand.

That afternoon they slept like lords.

That evening they ate like kings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the story so far is entertaining.


	4. Monsters of the soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elrond is too busy, so Thranduil decides to spent time with Bard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a description of alcohol consumption in combination with a delusion, it is not accurate whatsoever. But hey, story progression happens.

It must still be early because there is no light entering through the curtains, but I no longer feel Elrond next to me. I move my hand to his half of the bed, which has already grown cold. I don’t think I’ll stay in bed much longer either. I stretch and yawn, sit up straight and take a minute to get out of fog veiling my mind. Clarity starts to dawn on me and I feel ready to get up.

On my way down I pass through the bathroom, a giant pile of laundry is waiting to be washed nearly blocks my path. I should do that, but I can’t, not yet. The cleaning lady comes on monday, she’ll do it. I descend into the living room and enter the kitchen. Elrond is already sitting at the table with a newspaper in his hand, dressed for work. It is a stylish suit, which means he probably has a meeting first, maybe operations are later in the day? I start whipping up breakfast.

As I softly hum, I start thinking about my plans for the day, which turns out, is nothing, unsurprisingly. I flip my pancake, in the other pan the eggs and bacon are sizzling. I could visit Bard today. Behind me I hear Elrond pouring two glasses of orange juice. We hadn’t decided on a date, so I might as well stop by the sportpark, of which there are two. Well I’m guessing north and if he’s not there, too bad. I turn off the fire and bring breakfast to the table. 

We eat in silence. But on the last bite Elrond gets up and leaves. Was he that hurried? I yell after him: “I’m visiting Bard today.” There is no response other than the door slamming shut. Clearly someone doesn’t care what I do with my life. Fine. 

/////

Thranduil calls Galion to bring the car around and drive to the sportpark up north. Dale covers everything from the running river, to the long lake, filled with platforms and houseboats, following the forest river, cutting away partly into the forest all the way to Erebor, which is now an industrial hotspot. Over 250.00 people live in the region, making it one of the great human cities next to Minas Tirith and Edoras. In this giant city Bard runs a sports-centre, with four inside and two outside locations. Nearly all local sports clubs are affiliated and over fifty sports are available. Bard runs the business as part of the board and teaches archery multiple times a week. Thranduil thought it was quite impressive, not as impressive a the time he slew a dragon, but impressive none the less.

Upon arrival Thranduil askes lady at the service desk where he could find Bard and was surprised to hear he was currently teaching archery to teens. Walking past the soccer-, hockey- and tennis fields, Thranduil arrived at the archery range to witness the bowman’s former glory as he made an example shot for the kids. There was something familiar to it. Something that was forgotten, but only buried under the surface. Thranduil sat down on a bench behind the range like the king he still was, like he had all those years and watched. 

Four hours had gone by. Bard taught one group of kids after the other, only to finish with some young adults that seemed serious about the sport. When the last brownnoser had left, Thranduil finally got up and walked up to Bard.

“Well done, master Bowman.” Said Thranduil to announce his presence as he got up, letting his muscles warm back up after having sat unmoving for so long. 

Bard turned around and smiled as he walked up to the pale blond and shook his hand with his sport sweaty grip. “You’re here. Wait, how long have you been here?” He questions.

“A while, none of your concern really, for I have been kept properly entertained.” Came Thranduil's smart-mouthed response. Though he was staring absentmindedly at the held hands, which were warm but rough and sweaty. Bard had worked hard for several hours straight and it showed, although Thranduil cared less then he thought he would, he had gotten used to so many new smells in the last year that this was nothing.

“Be aware, archery has many drawbacks.” Bard stated proudly, trying not to grin. Thranduil looked him dead in the eye but was snickering less than an instant later. Bard had gotten him again, he should keep score, tell the kids about the man who appreciates his puns. He keeps staring at Thranduil and ends up vocalizing his thoughts. “Do you even know how to use a bow? I mean you’re elf. But then again, I had never seen you use one in my memories. But then again, my memories really aren't that reliable, being an old soul and all.” Wondered Bard as he scratched his head with his left hand, his right kept holding on to Thranduil’s hand, not really wanting to let go of the soft appendage.

Thranduil started blushing. “Yes. No. I..” But in an instance the blush receded again, Thraduil pulled his hand from Bard’s grip. His breathing grows louder. He seems to be panicking. “I. I don’t know. I remember my swords, my knife, but did I wield a bow? Surely adar taught me, didn’t he?” Thranduil seemed on the edge of an existential crisis, did he not know how to fire a bow? Who had taught Legolas? Has he never known? His breathing got more irregular. Or has he forgotten?

“You can just try it, you know, it won’t hurt anybody.” Bard calmingly said as he hands Thranduil a bow and an arrow. The blonde seems at a loss. So the man gently lays a hand on the blond's arm and one on his hip and moves Thranduil into the correct position. He now leans against Thranduil’s side so that he can keep one hand on the blond’s hand holding the bow and one on the wrist that is pulling the string back. Thranduil is taller than Bard and quite a bit taller than the children he teaches. So he leans quite fiercely against Thranduil, who has not yet gained confidence in the situation.

Together they aim and release. The arrow flies straight towards the target. Nearly a bullseye.

“So close,” uttered Bard, still pushed against Tranduil. He looked at Thranduil, only to not see the disappointment he had expected from the perfect king. But to see a wide, nearly childish smile spread across his face. 

“I remember,” the tall king nearly whispered. “I remember!” He now proclaimed out loud. Bard lets go of Thranduil and they turn to each other, grinning like idiots. Jumping into eachothers arms, Thranduil holds his arms tightly around Bard’s back and the brunette holds onto the king's neck with the same excitement. They spin around in eachothers arms on the archery range for a full minute.

“This deserves a drink!” They both cry out after nearly having gotten dizzy, still holding on to each other. They didn't bother with anything else, they were in the mood for a good talk and a cold drink.

The two get a drink and talk about many things. Bard spreads an arm around Thranduil’s shoulder and explains about humans, in particular that many humans have been reincarnated because of Mandos and his new still unknown death policy. Then Bard explained that the population is split into new souls and old souls, the old souls being those who have already lived a lifetime. Many children who are old souls suffer because of their war and trauma filled memories, so did Bard, who started having nightmares at eight years old. It took him until he was twelve to understand that he was remembering a past life. And even to this day he keeps remembering new things, like when he met the antique store owner or met a reborn Thorin Oakenshield.

He told lot’s of things about his life. He married a woman who looked like his previous wife and named his kids the same in the hopes of summoning their souls to him. He refused to tell whatever that had succeeded, he only said that he loves his children. One on the university campus of Minas Tirith and the other two, who left with a scholarship to an international highschool in Lothlorien, leaving him alone at home with the ashes of his wife.

Thranduil could relate, so much it hurt. That biting loneliness, it was clear they shared it.

Now it was Thranduil's turn to speak. He told Bard about the war of the ring, missing his son and passage of time. Of only being recently reintroduced to society, losing his wife again and being a hopeless housekeeper who’s flimsy grasp on technology had led to multiple household disasters. He barely says anything about Elrond, worried because he no longer has a grasp on what they are, so he only states he has a male friend in a similar situation.

Bard laughed, slapped Thranduil on his shoulder and assured him a round of drinks on Monday evening, his treat. And, Bard promised to unravel the mystery of the dishwasher for Thranduil on his next day off, Tuesday. The offer made Thranduil really happy, others had tried to teach him, but others aren't Bard.

They left the bar to get another drink at Bard’s place. It was only much later in the night that Thranduil sauntered back home.

Elrond was reading in the living room when Thranduil came walking in, disheveled, as he often would these last few days. The clock pointed both of its hands at the two, time to go to bed. Elrond got up and guided Thranduil up the stairs. Hand in hand they past through the bathroom, brushing their teeth and each others hair, which was put in a simple braid to sleep with.

After both had changed into their nightwear, Elrond leaned in for a goodnight kiss, Thranduil eagerly responded. His majesty wished him a goodnight and lied down on his half of the bed. The lord had been left standing there, next to bed, wondering why Thranduil smelled so strongly of another.

////

It is finally Tuesday, Monday was fun but this is far more valuable. I was going to tell Elrond I was going to spend the day with Bard again but once again he had left early. So I called Galion, who deposited me in front of Bard’s house with my groceries, where I knocked on the partially glass door. Quite excited to spend the day, I wasn't sure whether Elrond would be home this evening, so now I at least get to make some food that doesn’t go to waste.

No response. So I knock again, louder this Time. You wouldn't think Bard would have forgotten?

Five minutes later still nothing, how utterly deplorable and rude. Have you no honour, Bowman! I start to walk out of the small front yard, I will not stay where I am clearly not wanted. Still my efforts are wasted and undesired.

“Hey, your majesty where are you going?” Came a voice from the upstairs window.

“I knocked, you didn’t react” I huff back angrily, I don't even bother turning around.

“Knock? Why didn’t you ring?” The voice moved away from the window, clearly on it’s way down towards the front door.

“Ring? You have no bell or door knocker, you oaf.” I yell hard enough for Bard to hear me through the door.  
The door opens, Bard appears, freshly showered, towel in hand, pointing at a white button next to the door frame. “This is a doorbell, it rings, I can hear it from everywhere in the house.” Bard nuances, lifting an eyebrow. “You didn’t know that. Are you serious?” Bard narrows his eyes and holds a gaze as if trying to read my mind, I avert my gaze.

I feel my face turn red, I tremble a little, I can hear the plastic bags and their contents shake along with me. “No, I don’t. I told you, I am kind of hopeless with these things.” This is why I need help you doof. How humiliating.

I hear Bard’s rolling laughter, “I thought the dishwasher was an excuse for you to come visit, I didn’t know things were that bad.”

“At least I can cook.” I replied, my face still hot, but I can glare back now.

“At least you can, and those skills are very welcome in this cook-less house. I do not mind me some dinner in exchange for some private lessons. Just like learning to walk, this is going to be a multi-step process,” he ends with a wink. And almost like a conditioned reaction I burst into laughter. All is forgiven.

We end up talking about house appliances all day. I learned a lot; Bard really is a great teacher.

As repayment I made some spaghetti all'Amatriciana, we ate mostly in silence but Bard seemed to appreciate the dish. With it we drank the bottle of Dorwinion wine I brought. Which led Bard to start explaining about the many types of alcohol humans had invented the last few centuries. I got curious and asked what Bard had in store. He eagerly agreed to let me taste of his “finest acquisitions”.

We started with some beers, I know them as lager. Not really my thing, as an elf I prefer a drink resembling a pristine creek, not this whirlpool of carbonated grain. Although some were more aromatic and flavorful than I remembered them being two millennia ago. Not bad, might have another glass.

Then, the mortal introduced me to the drink of the aristocracy: champagne. He had bought a little bottle for dinner not expecting I would have brought an accompanying wine. But it is so nice, so clear and not as sweet as expected, like a clear night sky, filled with only the full moon. Next time I’m going to “The Lord of the Rums” I might order it. But an all elf bar like “the good people’s pud” probably serves a more agreeable bottle.

Now we are at whiskey and scotch versus vodka and tequila. I prefer drinks for a refined pallet, but I’m not going to say no. The Irish whisky is an expensive brand that fills my nostrils with the aromas of oak and honey and thoughts of home. The other three are much cheaper and disappointed me. The vodka has a punch to it, but tastes like something a child would want to drink. Maybe I’ll have seconds. I feel like I'm drinking even more than usual or is it just the variety?

I drink my second glass of whiskey as Bard’s phone goes something like: beep beep, beep beep. My eyes are starting to feel heavy but I look up. Bard puts his hands together in apology, says it’s his eldest and goes into the next room to talk. He had only had a fourth of what I have consumed but he seemed to be a bit sluggish, maybe he won’t be able to properly converse with his child. I lift another glass, which one, I don’t know, all drink is tasty. It is starting to get hot. It feels so constricting, so dizzying, hence I take off my outer robe as I mix my beer with vodka.

“mmmmhh, is pretty good.” I moan softly as my free hand moves to pop open the top three buttons of my inner robe. It finally feels less hot on my skin, but on the inside I’m overheating. I take another sip. Surely I have not been forgotten. My eyelids still feel heavy but the feeling that I’m floating starts to encapsulate me. While I wait here on my own. Alone. I am Alone. Abandoned. I rise up and fly off my chair unto the ground and immediately start rummaging through the outer robe I had carelessly thrown on the floor. I start breathing faster. It must be here. I’m not alone, not alone. Alone. I hear the sound of a seam tearing, I do not care, it must be here. The fear starts pooling in my belly. Alone. There it is. I found it! Adar’s knife, it’s here, I am not alone. I put it in the sleeve of my inner robe, that I then lift to my face and inhale the scent of, home. 

Finally all of my glasses are empty. I sink back into my chair and hum softly, my eyelids start feeling heavy again, the fear recedes and I start floating again.

“You’re right Elrond, I’ll go to bed. Please don’t leave me as well.” I respond. To whom? I’m so tired, so alone.

Right, bed. Tired. I wander through the living room that suddenly seems so much bigger. Right, my bed is upstairs. It is hard to aim my feet from one small step onto the next, they all feel unnaturally evelavated. The stairs feel like they go on forever, how many steps had I taken? After what felt like an eternity I'm on the second floor, and I’m lost. My bedroom is on the right, but there is no door. Breathing becomes laboured. I’m home aren't I? Elrond is waiting but there is no door to our room.

I’m tired.

I’m alone.

I’m scared.

I enter through the first door I get a hold of in this darkness. The room is just as dark, but there seems to be a bed, good, what a relief. I’ll just lie-

A hand grasps my shoulder. I scream. I feel my adrenaline rush, I have to turn, have to think. Act. I'm alone, I must save myself, no one else will, they're all gone. I start pivoting, I’m ready to fight. I must protect what is left of the kingdom. Right, adar’s knife. I see the orc that touched me and push it to the ground. I can only hear the thumping of my heart, my stomach is spinning. I feel the knife slipping in my clammy hand.

“Die, you three headed filth!” I cry as I stab down with my knife. A wave of nausea hits. I hit, no I missed.

It’s hideous heads keep writhing like serpents, it feels like they’ll strike. I have to flee. I can’t hold it. Elrond won't safe me. I get up, is it dead yet? I feel like I’m falling. I still have my knife. Do I strike again? I wretch. I can see the thing getting up. I have to escape, my eyes try scanning the dark room, there is the door.

I run past it as I fly down the stairs, landing on my unstable legs, my muscles start to hurt. I hear footsteps behind me and turn. In this well lit hallway it is clear to see. There was no Orc. Standing there was Bard, with a profusely bleeding cut on his neck. The need to throw up again rises. I am sacred.

I run past it as I fly down the stairs, landing on my unstable legs, my muscles start to hurt. I hear footsteps behind me and turn. In this well lit hallway it is clear to see. There was no Orc. Standing there was Bard, with a profusely bleeding cut on his neck. The need to throw up again rises. I am scared, but now not for my life but for that of Bard.

I cannot stay here. I feel humiliated, defeated. 

“I’m sorry, I, forgive me, please, reprieve me!” I scream with an unrecognizably high-pitched voice as I drop the knife and jump out the door. I feel nauseous as I leave the garden, my unsteady feet seem to be carrying me home.

I hurt Bard, I did that, I’m the monster. I deserve to be alone.

////

Once again it had gotten far too late, thought Elrond, he doesn’t even tell me where he is going, with who he is going.

The sound of the front door shutting reverberated through the house. Elrond left his study to go see the state Thraduil was in. He descended the stairs into the dark living room where Thranduil was standing, breathing loudly, as if he’d been running. He once again looked like a mess. Dressed in only a buttoned down inner robe. Elrond tried not to think of all the things it could insinuate.

Once in the living room he comes to a standstill behind Thranduil. Elrond tries reaching out to the king to express his worry. But Thranduil turns to slap away his hand. He looks scared, shook, and trembling. The king’s Irises have been devoured by his soul’s keyholes. Elrond tries reaching out again. Thranduil falls backwards onto the ground. “Please, no” came his small voice. The once mighty king seemed to be shrinking.

To Elrond it was obvious that Thraduil was being delusional and had gotten himself trapped in a nightmare. So he tries to close the distance between them. Thranduil fights him, kicks, cries out, punches and once he is in Elrond's embrace even tries biting. Elrond stays calm and holds onto Thranduil, caressing his tangled hair.

He picked Thranduil up and got him seated on the couch. Still holding on, hugging as he whispers: “I’m here, no one will hurt you. You are not alone.” After fighting the embrace for several minutes, Thranduil calms down a little and starts crying louder, shivering. They stay like this on the couch for a long while, waiting for Thranduil to return to his senses.

Once he seemed to have calmed down, Elrond guides him up the stairs into the bedroom. He helps him change. All of this he does with tranquillity of the mind, without questioning Thranduil. He holds faith that all will be well. It is only when he tries to kiss Thranduil goodnight, like they have done every night since Arwen left, he starts to get frustrated and feel defeated. Thraduil doesn’t react, doesn’t turn to him, doesn’t lean in to it, like he would always have done. He seems a lifeless doll in Elrond's arms. He puts Thranduil down on the bed, his breathing has gone almost completely back to normal, yet he still doesn’t return the lord’s affection. Elrond tucks him in and returns to his own side of the bed, for a moment he contemplates sleeping in one of the other rooms, but he can’t, it brings him even more worry. So he lies down.

On the left was the lord, heartbroken and frustrated. Had he been turned down?

On the right was the king, heartbroken and crushed. He had attacked Bard, injured him, and then he’d done the same thing to Elrond.

The night was spent with two backs turned to each other, the middle of the bed was left ashen cold.


	5. Eternity alone or with you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil feels so bad about what happened last night he flees to spent the day at the park clearing his mind, Elrond misinterprets this.

Elrond had taken the day off. Which he had spent looking out the window of their shared bedroom. He tried going to his study to work multiple times, but he kept wandering around the house, right back into the bedroom, sitting down on the bed, watching the sky change colour. Thranduil has been gone since the morning. After eating breakfast in an uneasy silence Thranduil had left, without telling Elrond or Galion where he would be going. The sun was already sinking behind the horizon. Elrond can’t take it anymore. He thought they were in it together, that they were there for each other, that they were more than strangers sharing a bed. He wholeheartedly believed that because of the fate they both had suffered, they made each other whole again. Clearly Thranduil no longer thought of it like that, or so it seemed to Elrond, to whom the silence and loneliness started to eat away at. 

Elrond could’t stop it, the tears started flowing. His shoulders start trembling as the sobbing can no longer be held back. All the questions and worries he had been suppressing since last week started pouring back into his mind. The feeling of powerlessness overwhelms the former lord of Imladris. His heart reflected the current sky: absence of a sun tinted it a hundred shades of grey, indistinguishable in the dark.

//////

I couldn't stay there not after I tried to hurt him. I feel humiliated and unworthy. The breakfast table silence gnawed at my consciousness riddled by the feeling of guilt, I had to leave. I tried hurting both of them. What kind of monster does that? 

I had spent the day on a park bench beside an oak and a red trash can, sometimes staring at the duck filled pond in front of me, sometimes looking at people passing by, many giving me the weird looks I had grown used to. A look he had never given me. The world is so cold, I shiver. Maybe I should never have left my halls, maybe Elrohir had been right. It is all too late, isn’t it? I have gotten too involved and can no longer turn back.

The sky turned dark, the few and far spaced out street lights turned on. Maybe my sight in the dark really has gotten worse. I sigh. A few shades pass through the gate on the other side of the pond, I can no longer make out any specific features in this darkness. I don’t want to go home, I cannot face him, yet. But I don’t want to be in a dark world where I’m the weird one, for not being dead, for not adapting fast enough. I stare at the gravel and then my feet. I should get up, I don’t feel like drinking today, so? I might as well go home and apologise to Elrond. Maybe he'll fill me some of his warmth, cast away the darkness. Getting up took determination, every step towards home took a bite out of my resolution.

I need a moment to gather my courage before I turn the key and enter the house. Silence is all I’m greeted with. I exit the hallway and enter the living room. Elrond is sitting on the couch, he looks up, but not from a book like normally, his eyes are red and his cheeks are tear stained. Is he that shaken by my behaviour? Did I hurt him that badly yesterday? I feel panic spreading through my veins, I have to say something, beg if I must. “Elrond, I-” I tried pleading, but a fierce warrior's gaze silenced me. Elrond, who was already in his sleeping gown, or was it still, gets up turns his back to me and starts walking away. For a moment I froze, before I realize he is no longer in the room. I start running after him, up the stairs, to our bedroom.

“Elrond, please. I-”, I stammer. What do I say? How could I possibly apologize? How could he possibly forgive me?

“No.” Elrond stands in the door opening facing me with a look in his eye that could turn a nazgul to dust. Before I can answer, before I can sink to my knees and beg, the door slams shut. I hear the lock being turned.

“Elrond, please, forgive me, I beg of you.” I start bawling, banging on the door. My panic turns to fear, I take a shaky breath. I’m so scared, there is only a door in between us yet he already feels a world away. Did Elrond abandon me, leave me, to be alone? I feel like I'll freeze again, as if my blood has frozen solid. For a moment I hold my breath, to try and gain control again and in that instance lean against the door. Next to thumping of my heart, the only thing I can hear is irregular breathing followed by a whimper. My own irregular breathing disrupts my observation. I hurt you, didn’t I? You gave me space and I bit the hand that fed me. 

I go back to the living room and let myself collapse on the couch, defeated. I cry, I wail. I’m so scared. That I truly am alone again, that I have hurt one I care so much for. I have hurt too many. I'm so cold, so lonely, the Helcaraxë sounds like a better place to be than the couch I now lie on, I think as I can't stop shivering. The hours fly by, yet they feel like an eternity filled only with my trembling breaths and worries for the future. It is the same as when I was in my halls, but now I feel things, too many things, so much guilt, so much pain, so much shame. I beat myself up over it until the exhaustion finally drags my consciousness into oblivion.

My head aches, my eyes are throbbing. All I feel is the body shaking hunger. I remember last night, Elrond! My eyes fly wide open, I sit up, throw the blanket off me and run up the stairs.

The door is unlocked, I turn the handle and enter. The bed is made, the room is empty. My stomach clenches. I hold my breath and start running through the room. Like a fool on a search for treasure I turn the house upside down. Elrond isn’t childish enough to hide in the closet, still I look in all of them. I turn every closet, box and space big enough for an elf inside out. Back in the living room I spin around, trying to collect my thoughts, my eyes fall onto the blanket. Last night I fell asleep with only a cushion. Did he?

Finally, I entered the kitchen. I wanted to do it last, to keep my hope alight. Empty. My stomach rumbles, there is no one to make breakfast for, not any more. I might as well leave, return to the equally empty living room. As I turn my eye falls on our puppies and kittens calendar hanging on the kitchen wall. Two entire weeks are covered by Elrond's neat cursive: ”Lothlorien”. My eyes widen in shock, I feel a tremble crawl down my spine and burst back into tears. The last bit of hope I had fostered was crushed. I had hoped he’d come back tonight. I would apologize, I’d make his favourite quiche, we’d kiss again and watch our favourite series wrapped in our big cashmere blanket. I am truly alone. He could decide to never come back, he still has a room there, he knows lots of people.

Two days have passed. Both nights I slept on the couch, returning to our room would make it real. It would prove that Elrond was gone and I was truly alone. I still feared that it wouldn't be just these two weeks. Trying to calm myself I looked for Adar’s knife, my only token of him. Quickly I stopped searching, it was still in Bard’s house. Bard who I could've killed that night. I am alone. It hurts. What if Elrond doesn't come back. What if everyone hates me now? I can no longer produce the tears I need to shed, my stomach rumbles.

I had spent the whole afternoon sitting on the couch, knees folded to my chest, digging my nails dig into them. Blood is finally drawn but I care not. Breathing becomes harder again. Elrond. Elrond, don’t leave. I would beg, no, will beg, if only you'd come back to me. The fear is overwhelming, I'd rather rip the bandage off now and find out if it's forever. But we are so far apart. But so is Celeborn, but we have spoken through the phone. That's it! I nearly trip running into the kitchen. Pantting like an animal, I don’t care, there is hope. I pull my phone off the charger and dial Elrond’s number. This could be my saving or my execution, but I’d rather face my fate than remain in this limbo of dreadful silence.

“We're sorry; The number you are trying to call has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again.”

I sink to the floor. My heart is beating out of my chest. I try again. And again. And again.

“We're sorry; The number-”. I hang up again.

I spent the third night sobbing on the kitchen floor, clutching my phone. Am I doing this wrong, am I once again this incompetent? The cold of the night in the heatless house reached my bones and for an instant I hoped the cold would take my life. Could I even die? Would Mandos send me back immediately, not letting my weary faë rest and heal for only a moment? Would he not take the suffering from my shoulders, would no one?

During all that sulking the sun had risen. I pick my phone up again, I press call again, fruitlessly pursuing Elrond. This time I decided to change plans, planting seeds of hope, I call Legolas. The same message plays, I know it now by heart, for it denies me of my love. One last try, that is all my heart can take for now, maybe I'll take another beating tomorrow, but I've grown weary. For my last attempt I try calling Celeborn. The painful ringing starts anew, soon my fate will be sealed.

“Thranduil? How rare of you to call.” A voice comes out of the phone. For a second I hold my breath, surprised, before I wail tearlessly, I feel my shoulders release some of their pent up tension. It is not me who is unreachable, but him. 

“Thranduil? Are you all right? Listen, I am currently on the other side of the planet and have a meeting in less than 5 minutes. Try keeping it short, okay?” Celeborn sounds hurried, probably the downside of being a diplomat, I think as I attempted to smile, I don't succeed. 

“I- I- I’m so alone. And Legolas is gone and so are Elrohir and Elledan and Arwen. And now. And now, Elrond is going to leave,” I sob through the phone, clutching it against my chest: my cherished connection.

“Listen. I’m sure it will be okay. Elrond cares a lot, I’m sure he’ll be home before you know it. Do you have any friends you can stay with for the day, maybe cheer you up?” Celeborn tried sounding calm, but it was obvious he had started running to get to his meeting on time.

“I can try to call B-”

“Sorry, Thranduil, have to go, good luck.” Celeborn ends the call, leaving me alone in the kitchen filled with only the beeping of the ended call. My eyes start aching again from all the shed tears, but now it is just numb. My breathing is more stable but my head feels like its splitting open.

I gulp. After our first time drinking at the bar Bard and I exchanged phone numbers. Might as well try, what more do I have to lose. I drop my phone onto the ground as the painful beeping starts again, it rings and it rings. It feels like an eternity in which a thousand horrible scenarios pass behind my eyelids.

“Hello, with Bard Bowman, who am I speaking with?” Bard’s voice pierces through my horrible thoughts. I launch myself at the cell phone, clutching it tight. I want to cry, to scream. At least he is alive, at least I didn’t damage his throat.

“I’m sorry.” My voice quivers as I apologise. “I am so sorry, how could you possibly forgive me?” I knew I shouldn't have called, how could he forgive me? I don't even deserve his mercy.

“Thranduil? Are you alright? I tried to call you but you gave me the wrong number and I didn’t know where you live. Is- Is it alright if I stop by?” Bard wants to know if I am okay, wants to stop by. I grab a hold of my face, in the back of my mind a thought of tearing it to shreds, beyond recognition, passes by. He is too good to a monster like me.

“If you want, p-please.” Not even sure how the words formed, I had said them. And Bard reacted positively, asking for my address. I gave it to him. In the background I heard the sound of a car being started. “R-right now?”

Not even ten minutes later and Bard is at my door. I let him in. My eyes drift to the bandage of the side of his neck and I can no longer look him in the eyes, too much shame. Thoughts of how much it could have hurt of how it could have gone wrong make me feel queasy. 

Suddenly Bard hugs me tightly. “I was so worried you know? You flipped out and just disappeared, white as a sheet, stumbling over your own feet. I wanted to be sure you got home safe. You seemed so scared, it hurt to see you like that. And look at you. Are you taking care of yourself?” There is nothing to do but melt into the embrace. I needed that. The fear starts melting off of me. For now I’m not alone. I am forgiven.

We enter the living room. Bard looks around in awe. “This house is huge, surely you don't live here on your own?” He says as he wanders around the room, clearly impressed with the size and interior design, his eyes linger especially long on the 85” tv. He turns to look at me and is aware he’s hit a sore spot. 

I start shaking again, trying to explain: “There were Elledan and Elrorir, but they hate me and ended up leaving. There was Arwen, but my meddling made her run away. Legolas lived here, but wanted to be close to university. And Elrond, he-” I can’t finish the sentence without breaking down, having been reminded that everyone had left me. Bard hugs me again.

“What kind of an asshole would leave some like you.” He moves a strand of hair behind my ear and continues: “I will be there for you, I will not leave. You deserve a knife life”. Wink.

I giggle trough my sobs, “this is the first time that I think one of our jokes was dumb.”

“Well I got you to laugh, so it counts anyway.” He says as he keeps me close to himself. One arm lies over my hip, the other caresses the back of my head. I lay my head on his shoulder, the exhaustion kicks in again. The last few days were nothing but adrenaline and exhaustion on an empty stomach. But this is nice, peaceful. 

“You forgot your knife when you left. That’s why I made that pun, you know.”

“Keep it. If I only use it to hurt those near and dear to my heart it is useless to me. It was my father’s, but that no longer matters, he is not here.” I murmur, I don’t need it when I’m not alone. It might even be the reason I’m alone.

Bard ended up staying for the day. I made us a simple dinner with what had not yet passed the expiration date. After that Bard explained what the buttons on the fridge and microwave do. It was nice. He left with the promise to come back tomorrow. For the first time since I hurt those dear to me I sit down and drink a glass of wine. I kept it at two, one for each I hurt. Soon after, I lie down on the couch only to be embraced by merciful sleep and kind dreams. I dream of living with Elrond, going shopping with the kids, getting a drink with Bard.

//////

While in Lothlorien Elrond had some time to think things over. Why did Thranduil always come back so late? Was he with the man Galion saw? Does he come home late because they’re together? Does Thranduil want to be with the mortal, leaving Elrond to rot in his loneliness? 

Elrond had spoken to Celeborn in his office before he left on his far away diplomatic meeting.

“Thranduil has been weird lately, coming home drunk and disheveled nearly every night, that is if he is coming home.” He had told Celeborn, who was leisurely sitting on his office chair. Elrond had been standing and was far too frustrated to sit still.

“You know that even among the sinda he is a weird one.” Celeborn answered, not bothering to get up. Only lifting an eyebrow. He was fully aware that he was in control of the situation, seeing that Elrond was starting to pull apart at the seams. “Are you sure Thranduil’s lover is a human? And why would that bother you, it is not as if you two are married.” He was going to show mercy, just not yet. Both of these morons deserve to suffer for not having come to overdue realizations, thought Celeborn. “Now that you mention it. I once spoke with Galion over the phone about how you were doing. Indeed, he did mention Thranduil visiting a mortal on several occasions, even at his home and not asking for a ride home.” Celeborn says with a scandalous expression on his face. The slugs were about to get a racecar engine strapped to their behinds, no more gentle pushing from fairy godfather Celeborn.

“Oh and that reminds me. Eltariel went to help out one of the orcs that work for Talion and Celebrimbor, they are opening their branch headquarters in Dale. The point is, she was in a bar, the lord of the rums, where she has seen Thranduil on two different occasions with the same mortal.” With every word spoken he could see Elrond go paler. He should have installed a security camera in their house, to think he was about to miss all this drama. You will not find anything better on tv, no reality tv would compare to the day that is to come. Celeborn grinned, Elrond left, back to his lonely room.

Elrond had returned to his lodgings, the same room he had slept with Thranduil during their stay in Lothlorien after he had found out Thranduil was plagued by ghosts of the past and worries for the future. He had felt such pity, and a deep need to keep Thranduil from being this sad ever again. Elrond’s thoughts were running wild. Surely Thranduil isn’t going behind my back with a mortal is he? He smelled like one, he didn’t kiss me like he normally would, he came home disheveled, half undressed. Celeborn is right, it is not like we are married, I can’t interfere.

But the ache of losing his brother and daughter felt fresher than ever, would he lose Thranduil the same way? But unlike them he would not die a human with his lover and Mandos’s new death system might not bring them together. Surely he’ll fade or he might even kill himself. Nothing but that thought made Elrond want to beg to the valar. But they would no longer help him. He would have to do it himself. What does Thranduil deserve? Who would make him happy?

Elrond made up his mind, ordered his thoughts and braced his heart. He come to the realisation. He was a warrior ready to tread upon the merciless battlefield.


	6. Half an answer, the whole answer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elrond is coming home. Thranduil still needs answers who will give them to him? Bard and Elrond face off.

The two weeks had finally passed. Every day I had spent the afternoon with Bard, taught him how to cook, while he taught me how to properly run a household. Eternal gratitude that I don’t know how to express filled my chest. Every day I had spent the evening reflecting on my relationship with Bard, with Elrond, with the children and with my beloved Dorwinion. I had not yet figured everything out. It became clear to me that I didn’t hold all the answers, after these two weeks of ruminating, I had half of them. Now all that's left is to do is obtain the other half from them.

This morning I was drinking tea with Bard, there was a comfortable silence. Whilst sipping from my cup I studied the man sitting opposite of me. By my request he was wearing pants with no holes in them and a clean shirt with the logo of a first rate brand on his chest. He was still wearing the braids I put in his hair yesterday, to keep his hair out of the soup. I followed Bard’s line of sight as his eyes moved through the kitchen and ended up staring at the clock, in a flash he had gotten up and started leaving, apologising as he fled the kitchen, off to instruct a promising athlete, I could make out from his rambling goodbyes; on the table he had left behind a full cup of cooling black tea, I emptied it and cleaned the kitchen, putting away the uneaten biscuits. Now that I was alone I would return to my contemplation and self reflection by putting on my new dark blue coat and going out into the world again, one that was now slightly more familiar to me. Not long after wandering the city I ended up sitting on the same park bench I had that day two weeks ago. The oak was as leafless then, yet looked even more somber in the biting cold of this cloudless day, than it did two weeks ago. Today I did not receive any weird looks while sitting there, it was the first time I had decided not to wear my robes, but wear jeans, a blouse, a jacket, a coat and a pair of chukka boots. It wasn’t as bad as I had expected, still it did not make me feel whole, nor make me feel fully at home in this city. 

The sun was starting to come down from its peak, it must be around three now. Probably five hours have passed since I sat down, every muscle fibre in my body complained about my stationary contemplation. Now that I had gotten off my throne it seemed my body became less and less accepting of my habit of sitting down this long. Better get home, the white laundry is waiting for me. Rather have that off the list before Elrond finally decides to come home. Will he really come back and not abandon me? I wonder. Breath in, breath out. Yes, I trust that Elrond will return to me.

After leaving the park I take the long road home, passing through the street with all the expensive boutiques, the bags are quite nice, but it is always the jewellers that catch my eye, the white gems they have embedded on rings and bracelets sparkle like little stars. Right, the laundry, I think as I turn into an alley I knew from back the third age, one of the walls has been preserved from that time, the rest is far more modern. I stop and touch it, wondering what Bard was doing right now, would he recognize this wall? With a zigzagging trail I go from street to street, If I had used the gps app Bard recommended for jogging I could have drawn a snake with my current stroll, quite the boa construction. I stop and laugh, tears are nearly forming in my eyes. Bard may be good for the heart, be he sure is no good for my sense of humor. I think of how Elrond would smile at my pun, I shiver, picking up my pace.

Finally I entered the street where our house is, I stopped laughing at my pun but the good mood remained, I felt a smile creep onto my face when thinking of the quiche I would surprise Elrond with. Halfway through the street I noticed a human form sitting against our low stone garden wall. Straining my eyes and speeding up my pace I come to the conclusion: it’s Bard. I started sprinting, hoping I didn’t make him wait in front of a closed door, did we have an appointment for the evening? Now that he is only meters away I notice him holding his hand to his cheek.

“Your housemate is back, it seems,” was how Bard grumpily greeted me once I had come to a standstill in front of him. He was sitting on the ground, leaning against the low brick wall that fences our garden, legs stretched out over the pavement. His cheek seemed red and started to inflate. For a second I forget to breathe.

“What happened?” I whisper as I kneel down in front of him. Moving his hand from his face, trying to inspect the damage. The form of a hand grows angry and red upon his face.

“I came to give the asshole who abandoned you a piece of my mind. It seemed our intentions coincided.” Bard says as he gets up, I get up with him. We are now face to face, the archers gaze pierced like an arrow. What will he say, this looks serious.

“Thranduil, I love you.” I blink, I’m at a loss of words, this was not what I had expected. “Thranduil, you have brought light back into my lonely life, you made me the best food I’ve had in my life and you even laughed at the most terrible of my jokes. I want you to come live with me, be by my side.” I’m stunned, I didn’t know he felt like this. Yet before I can give him an answer he starts walking away. I take a hold of his hand. I don’t understand. What happened? What are you saying? And if you mean it, why are you leaving?

He shakes off my hand and keeps walking, frozen, I remain unmoving, once he is more than a leap and an arms length away, he turns to me. “It seems the bastard inside has something similar to say. That leaves me with the cruel decision of making you choose. I’m letting you go, but my arms will always be open for you.” He turns back around and sprints out the street. He runs damned fast for an archer, truly a sport for those who skip leg day. He turns a corner and is gone from my elven sight. Leaving me confused, in front of what I now know, is a not so empty house.

My thoughts start to race, and so does my heart. Elrond was already home, which means they fought. With a shaking hand I unlock the front door. Puzzled, but slightly scared I open the door. Silence. I grow slightly more worried. Once inside, I take off my coat and shoes and enter the living room in what resembled the slowest ambulation on Arda.

There on the ground sits Elrond, hand on his face, with red streaks that could be nothing else but blood. I dropped the keys I had still been holding on to and run to him. Falling to my knees trying to oversee the damage. His face was inflamed on the left side, it started to color a red that announced the coming of a bruise. Blood was flowing from both nostrils, a tissue was held to it and it had definitely slowed already. Yet some of it had gotten onto his alpaca wool sweater, a pity. But Elrond, to see you again after all this hurt and ache only to see you in pain.

“Why didn't you go with him?” he speaks, the tones more nasal because of his nose stuffed with tissues, yet, it was clear that there was surprise in his voice. “He truly loves you! I have only made you miserable. You, who are so undeserving of it.” Elrond finishes in a whisper as his eyes glowed with sadness, it wasn’t the pain of his face that made him shed these tears.

“We both know that isn't true, you fool.” Here, on the floor of our living room, now eternally stained with a drop of Elrond's blood, this is the other half of the answers I was looking for. I hold onto his right hand and breath in, finding the courage for the next words. 

“You know I would have sat an eternity on that throne, in that forgotten land, if it wasn't for you, you saved me. Bard brought back dear memories and filled some of the holes in my spirit with his kindness and familiarity. But you fill my heart, make me whole, make me want to face this eternity again. You are my prince upon Rochallor,” I spoke at last, a weight lifted from my shoulders, an enigma solved. But there is still one thing left unsaid.

“You weren't with him?” Elrond said, stupefied, as he raised his head, allowing another crimson drop to roll off his face unto the carpet. 

I put my hand under his chin, worried his jaw might drop to the ground. I have missed this warmth, of his skin, his words, his fae. He seriously thought Bard and I were a couple. This is the fact that drove that sudden wedge between us. This idiot, my idiot.

“I just needed someone to cook for when you're gone,” I declare, beaming like I hadn’t in a long time. This doofus was just as lonely and scared as I was, weren't you? I close my eyes as I enjoy the sensation of his smooth chin a little longer, running my finger underneath his jaw. 

The feeling is cut short by Elrond falling over me, hugging me tightly, crying into the crook of my neck. The both of us end up spread out of the floor, Elrond on top of me.

“I'm never leaving again,” Elrond cried. And as he said, so he did. 

We laid like this for at least another hour or two. The evening was spent on the floor, running our hands through each other's hair whilst whispering our misunderstandings. I caressed his face that was swelling angrily on the left side, turning into a rainbow of darkening hues, as he explained he had gotten jealous that night and he had only realized it in Lothlorien after his talk with Celeborn. I let him run his hands underneath my blouse as I tell him about attacking Bard, attacking him and getting scared of losing him. 

“Would you do the both of us a favour and stop drinking?” Elrond asked seriously, in the same hushed tone we had been speaking with. I look him in the eye and find no resentment or pity.

I breathe in and allow my smile to grow. I can’t help grinning as I say: “I tried you know, I felt guilty and stopped. But, oh, that Dorwinion that we have in the cellar was just too good to resist, truly a king’s drink.” Elrond starts grinning with me, we probably look like fools, happy fools.

“Well then, your majesty, if you would please allow this lowly lord to join you in your drinking venture.” Elrond tried stating gravely while grinning “But I will set a limit, that will be sure.”

“With you? It would be my honor, I wouldn’t want it any other way. Although I’m not sure I agree with your limit.” Well it is fair, but at the same time it is not, spoilsport, goes through my head as I start pouting. Elrond keeps grinning as he pulls me off the floor, once standing up straight he lays a kiss on my forehead, it nearly burns, but in a good way. 

We strolled into the kitchen and I put together a quiche, for which I had bought ingredients all by myself, except that Galion drove me there. We ate, whispering about the past in between every bite. Afterwards we lied back unto the floor, pretending the ceiling was the night sky. We continued to share our thoughts and feelings, as we let our hands explore each other's body. 

I kissed Elrond on his now dark blue bruise. I looked him in his eyes and felt my heart squeeze, I felt at home in a way I had not for centuries. I was whole again.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He whispered back.

Life picked itself back up and was more normal than ever. Finally I am capable of running the house by myself. Sometimes Elrond will walk in on his day-off and kiss me on the cheek as he takes the pile of laundry from my hands to do it himself, making me feel warm inside, letting me know that I am not alone in this, I never have to be alone in anything again.

Elrond went back to work. But since, refuses to go on business trips that are longer than two days. If he is really needed somewhere far away they better prepare a second plane ticket.

I still regularly invite Bard for a drink or for dinner, but most of the time he says he is too busy. I do get that it must be painful for him. But it is just as painful for me not seeing him anymore. I truly had a friend in him, something I had with no other here.

It had been a few weeks of our new found rhythm when the doorbell rang. It was none other than lord of the house of the golden flower: Glorfindel, the now not so uniquely reëmbodied elf and he looked pissed. Not wanting to look the angry warrior too long in the eyes I look behind him. Behind Glorfindel's large frame are Elledan and Elrohir, each being held by their ear. Before I can say anything Glorfindel drags them inside, this is what the youth would call a “cringeworthy” situation.

I got everyone seated in the living room and offered everyone some tea. Glorfindel and the boys sat on the part of the couch facing the coffee table and tv, Elrond and I sat on the extension perpendicular to them, facing the front window. The sight of our well kept yard calmed me down a little. I turn to Elrond as we wait for Glorfindel to finish sipping and start explaining.

“Elrond, I respect you as a lord and a friend, but I am done. They have been working at the stables for 3 months now and I'm done, absolutely through with them. I took pity on them when they knocked on my door. However, they aren't any less trouble than they were in the third age. They came to me for work and I gave them that, but by Eru they messed up often and when it wasn’t by accident, it was because they just couldn’t stop themselves from playing a prank on everyone. So I hereby, formally and officially make them your problem again from here on out.” He emptied his cup and got up. “Good day to you all.” The door slammed shut, the golden haired ‘Arda international riding academy’ manager had left.

Elrond looked at me, worriedly. I am fine, I still care for them. We smiled at each other and turned to the boys, who were sitting on the couch, painted crimson by Glorfindel’s quashing remarks. And in sync we spoke: “ welcome home boys, we hope you all learned your lesson, because we sure have.” Elrond grinned at me, I grinned right back.  
This made the twins seemingly feel even more defeated. The weight of our fight still weighed them down, it suggested.

Yet before we could speak words of encouragement, Elledan had a spark of determination light up his iron eyes, walked up to Elrond and got down on a knee folding his arm, holding his hand over his heart. “You are not weak ada, I apologize.”

Elrohir’s lead orbs gleamed in the same manner and in an instance he had mimicked his brother's stance but positioned himself in front of me. “I do not wish for you to rot nor do I consider you a waste of space, I apologize sincerely, king Thranduil.”

Elrond, clearly overflowing with emotion, got up and threw his arms around the necks of his sons, pulling them to his chest, where he gently kissed them both on the tops of their head. “I did not want you gone and you are not ungrateful. I was blinded by my emotions, will you forgive me?” The three hugged it out, the twins bawling loudly and Elrond smiled as a single tear rolled down his cheek.

From the couch I look down onto the hugging, sipping on my tea. “I must confess, I lied as well, you see, I really wanted to beat your asses when you had the guts to insult me.” In shock the three dark haired elves turned to me, the king who sits as royalty should, spread onto the couch, taking up all the space, sipping his tea, grinning like a bobcat, as all things should be. Elrond started laughing and soon the twins and then even I followed. The house was now filled with joy, love and forgiveness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to make it 7 chapters, cause I just keep writing more.


	7. Out of the forest into our future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kind of epilogue, all the fluff of a happy ever after.

It was a day like any other. Elrond had the day off and the two of them decided to take the bullet train to Mithlond. It was whimsical, during the ride Elrond made a call to book a hotel and a restaurant. 

Originally Thranduil didn’t want to go, that place contained too many bad memories. However Elrond wanted to go see the ocean and the grey havens was the only port with a bullet train station, that allowed them to go, stay the night and return the next day before Elrond’s afternoon shift. 

They both packed lightly, an elvish robe and a modern outfit, of which Thranduil had become a fan after the rain of compliments Elrond had showered him with when he had seen him in jeans for the first time. Both also packed: a toothbrush, a brooch (a spider one for Thranduil and Elrond went with an abstract shape based on the rose bud), a box, keys, phone, snacks made by Thranduil and a bottle of Dorwinion.

The train journey was a few hours, spent reading, staring out the window and an exchange of glances accompanied by light blushing; it was the feeling of nervousness and excitement. Upon arrival they started with a walk through the city, which had not changed in the slightest since the last time Thranduil had first set foot in it. The only difference was the blanket of snow tightly hugging all the roofs. The street had been cleared of snow but every few meters there stood a snow creation made by the local children.

The cold, though nowhere near bone chilling, was a good excuse to walk arms linked and shoulders touching. 

They walked past the port, still as filled but no longer as much of a burden to Thranduil. Elrond’s presence allowed the blond to keep breathing easily. Through the winding alleyways they ended up near the spot where they had met again for the first time and where Thranduil had seen her again.

It still hurt, having lost the one he spent a thousand years with, had raised a child with. Thranduil looked at his feet, the pair next to his, let his gaze trail upwards, until his eyes came to rest on the gentle look in Elrond’s eyes, making his heart squeeze. Thranduil no longer felt the need to cry, the thought of her no longer made him lose control of his breathing because the most important elf was right next to him. How he longed to tell her, just like how they had showed each other all of their favourite things in the past.

Elrond looks ahead and holds Thranduil's hand, tightly. The blond looks at it, then at the brunette's face and follows his gaze. Speak of the devil, as though a single thought seemed to have been enough to summon her to him again.

Elrond seemed a bit stressed, his only thought was to take Thranduil’s hand and run, he regretted having come here, the last thing he had wanted to do was hurt Thranduil again. But as he looks back at Thranduil, he doesn't see the fear or soul crumbling sadness he had seen in his eyes upon their first meeting in the dark alley.

She waves, having recognized Thranduil from that night several months ago. She was wearing a thick red winter coat, with high black boots and black gloves, holding the hand of her own brunette partner. Thranduil smiled as he waved back, showing off how he was holding the hand of his loved one as well by raising them in the air.

“Why did you do that? You didn’t have to, we could just have left.” Elrond says worriedly, struggling to understand what was going through his love's head.

Thranduil smiles calmly as he replies: “It was merely fulfilling a small wish I held, for her to know that I was truly happy again, even if she no longer knows that she was the one who had done so for a long time.”

The lord takes a hold of his king's face and lays a kiss on each cheek. “You are very brave, my dear.”

The two held hands again and went on further with their walk. Passing through the main-street and the countless alleyways, ending on the city's lowest level. Where a stone steps lead down to a beach exposed by the low tide. From the stone stairs there is almost two hectometres of exposed beach, wet and cold; a direct connection to the earth, sea and wind.

“The sun is setting again and another day ends, yet I no longer regret the passing of time. It is now dear to me, every setting sun is a reminder of a day spent with you.” Thranduil whispers as they reach the water's edge. Through the exposed sand cuts a river of retreating seawater, a depth never truly exposed, filled with life. The seaweed gently sways in the current. The wind and water are the only sounds surrounding them, just the two of them.

“Many times the life of an elf seems like a weight, crushing the heart. But one or a thousand days with you are what seems a single afternoon in the spring breeze: a blessing. My hroa feels unburdened and my fae is whole again.” Elrond says as he takes a hold of both of Thranduil’s hands, locking his gaze with those glacial eyes filled with unrestrained affection. Thranduil had schooled his features back into disciplined calmth over the last few months, back to the cold exterior he was famous for. But Elrond saw deeper, the king’s soul was exposed to him, he saw and drank it in.

“I regret not asking for your hand during the battle of the last alliance. I would have fought Oropher himself if it would have given me a chance to marry you. An unnatural jealousy rises in me knowing I could have had you so much earlier if I had not let that rotten attitude of yours scare me off. How many more nights would I have had the chance to worship your beauty then. I will be sure to make up for all this lost time my dear.” Elrond whispered in Thranduil’s ear, who turned an adorable crimson, making his eyes seem even bluer against the red of his cheeks and ears. Thranduil saw Elrond grin at his blush. He turned from him trying to hide his face with his hands, stuttering about it not being from Elrond’s embarrassing statement, as he took several steps away from Elrond.

“Then, Thranduil, shall we make up for lost time?” 

The king spun back around and turned even more crimson. Before him the former lord of Imladris had gotten down on his knee holding out a little black box, with inside of it a ring that seemed to shine like a silmaril, though that might just be the sunset and the tears. It was two silver elm branches hugging a white gem. 

“Will you, Thranduil Oropherion, marry me, in elven tradition, in modern tradition or in whatever tradition that would make you mine and mine alone?”

Thranduil’s voice had gotten stuck in his throat, tears streaming down his face, he looked at the ring and then at Elrond and back at the ring. For a solid minute there was only the sound on the water streaming cheerfully towards the sea. Elrond could not help but raise an Eyebrow, Thranduil seemed quite lost in thought for a question that could be answered with a single syllable. He cleared his throat. Thranduil looked back at him, then down.

Thranduil seemed to fall, Elrond got up running to him. But Thranduil hit the ground with only one knee. Out of his pocket he retrieved a similar looking box.

“I could ask you the same thing,” He said, smiling through his tears. Elrond stopped, shocked.

He opened the box, producing a similarly shaped ring. A blue gem embraced by willow branches, slightly more golden than the ring Elrond had been holding out; Who was beyond surprised and had nearly fallen over, though the reality had not yet kicked in, it took a few minutes before his tears started rolling.

“Will you, Elrond Peredhel Eärendilion, in whatever tradition that would make you mine and mine alone, marry me?”

For what seemed like a infinitesimal eternity there was silence between them. Elrond's tears finally start rolling and he slowly took the last three steps it took to reach Thranduil. They embrace each other, hugging tightly as their lips caress, again and again. 

Between the last few kisses they each whisper a ‘yes’ filled with all their love. They wipe the tears from each other's eyes. They were but vessels overflowing with an emotion they had not held in this quantity for thousands of years, they would never let go again, they would quench one another for millennia to come; two stars so close they burned as one in the night sky.

Elrond takes the ring from his box and puts it in on Thranduil’s right ring finger, lifting it to his face, kissing it once and kissing Thranduil once more. Thranduil repeats the motion by taking his ring from his box, kissing Elrond’s right hand on every finger, the palm and the back. With unrivalled delicacy the king puts the ring on his fiancé and kisses it.

Finally, they stand gazing at the love of their life, holding hands, discovering the exciting sensation of the ring on their partners hand, forever it will be the proof of their love. 

The sun has fully set and Elrond decides to break the silence, “shall we get something to eat?”

“With you? There is nothing I would rather do.” Thranduil answers with tears filling the corners of his eyes again, only for them to be wiped away by Elrond’s gentle kisses.

Hand in hand they leave the beach and the rising tide, that was tenderly recovering the exposed sand, letting Ulmo’s creations once again dance freely beneath its moonlit surface.

The restaurant and hotel were in the middle of the city on a high platform with a view over the lower streets and sea. The food was world class, three Melian stars, but in Elrond’s mind nothing could ever compete with the dishes made, with love, by his fiancé. The word makes him blush like a teenager, he feels millennia younger again.

Toning the affection down in public they start conversing about life. But they end right back on the subject of marriage before the entrée is finished.

Elrond takes the last bite of his four winter vegetable gratin when he asks: “I brought you here fully intending to propose, I wanted to begin, exactly where ‘we’ had begun. But you originally didn't even want to go or was that merely a proposal trick?”

Thranduil swallows his bite of carpaccio and truffles and takes a sip of his vin de Mordor before responding. “Not exactly, love, I originally wanted to proclaim my love for you in my own hall. But it seemed to have been a good thing that I took the ring everywhere with me.” Though his features remained schooled a slight red tinge appears on his face at the thought of the ring having been his lucky charm the past week or so, he’ll just blame it on the wine.

Three bites into the main course Thranduil decides that honesty and communication avoid all future misery and confesses: “Elrond, I want to be honest, no matter how much this embarrasses me.” Thranduil took a deep breath. “Immediately after you came home from Lothlorien I went looking for a ring, but nothing I found could compare to your grace, so I had to ask for help. I find it shameful that as king I was unable to procure a suitable ring for my future spouse.”

Elrond started laughing softly and replied: “at first I was not even sure whether a ring was truly what I wanted to bind you with, but after asking Celeborn I concluded that it was the right thing. He even helped me find someone to make the ring.”

Thranduil put his fork down and looked slightly suspicious. “You went to Celeborn as well? And he helped you find someone, would that someone be an acquaintance of Galadriel, an individual of great skill?” The two stared each other down, although there was no animosity. In their heads they counted to three, nodded and called: “Celebrimbor”.

There was a silence, the two were shocked, but quickly it turned to laughter. 

“Well, it explains why they form such a suitable pair,” Elrond chuckles. “This would be far from the first time Celeborn has pulled such a stunt on us.” Elrond could not help but remember the different conversations he had with Celeborn and notice how he’s always pushed them towards one another.

Even when sharing a chili dark chocolate cake they couldn't stop giggling about the revelation that Celeborn had been playing matchmaker since day one, which earned him the spot as best man at the wedding.

Elrond leaned back on his chair filled with food (for thought) and love. He sighed and for an instance he truly believed himself to be the happiest elf or man on Arda. He lets his eyes fall close in reverie. He feels a hand on his shoulder and then a pull on his sleeve.

He opens his eyes to Thranduil grabbing a hold of his hand, intertwining their fingers, in the other hand he holds the keys to their suit upstairs, a sly but very charming smile on his face.

“I belong to you now and forever, don't I?” Thranduil said cheekily. Elrond's face warms up. He was very much looking forward to the night and every night from now on.

///////

The day I received the letter I wanted to tear it apart, I wanted to cry, to rage. I ended up putting it down on the cluttered living room table and thought about it every time I walked by. Even ended up taking it to work with me. Sometimes I got distracted and peeked into my pocket filling myself with that burning sadness again.

Now, on the table lie the only two reminders. I have made up my mind. I will cut all ties and get rid of them, to free myself from his enchantment. I stuff the letter into my left pocket and the knife into my right. Put on my newly bought winter coat and leave the house. Winter was at its cruelest and Thranduil’s advice to buy the new coat had been a blessing. Huhgg, I really can’t stop thinking about him, can I now. Now that I think of it my previous lifetime must have been the same, eyes always glued to that blond platinum fluttering in the wind.

I huff, at least I have arrived at my destination, grabbing ahold of the knife, “This is where we say goodbye,” I whisper to it. I open the door to the antiquity store and a little bell rings. The store is quite small, several large shelves and a small multi level platform covered with larger items are all customers have access to. There is no dust on anything, the room feels ancient, but well preserved. I like the store mostly because of the owner, with his keen eye and generosity.

The shopkeeper, a tall elf, dressed traditionally, who I came to know as Ereinion appears from the back. Strangely enough the colour of his hair is impossible to distinguish. He has the air of a king but refuses to be called that, denying any ties to royalty or fame. I never questioned his need to stay away from where people would recognize him. He carried a sadness that lifted slightly when he saw me enter.

“Mister Bowman, what can I do for you today?” He stands behind his counter that doubles as vitrine, in it are many small objects, jewellery, medals, a few arrowheads and some beautifully decorated knives.

As I take the knife out of my pocket another customer enters, the bell chimes as an alert to his presence. Ereinion greets him with the same friendliness he greets all customers with, but his face turns pale. He looks down at the knife, picks it up and turns around as he starts over-exaggerating his inspection of it.

“Ah, yes, very good quality, well preserved. Must have been forged in Lindon by the sinda,” Ereinion said, his voice sounding unnaturally high-pitched. Was it the customer? I turn to see who entered. For a second I believed it to be Thranduil in the flesh, but his frame is a little wider and his hair is more silvery, his eyes are sharp as daggers. Elegant, but were Thranduil is a proud stag, this elf is a bear.

He walks up to the counter, as Ereinion puts the blade down, coming to a standstill next to me, his height intimidating. He narrowed his eyes at Ereinion, who acted like he had some business in the back regarding the blade he had left on the counter. The stranger looked down at the blade, his eyes growing wide. 

He turned to me, glaring like I had murdered his only child. 

“Where did you acquire this blade, mortal.” His voice was low, nearly growling, his tone was oppressive. His eyes, icicles, remained on me, peering through my soul.

I felt as if saying “a friend gave it to me” was going to get me killed, I swallowed. Might as well give some context, as quickly as humanly possible, before he decides to stab me with it.

“Sooo, I have this elf friend, well, had this elf friend and we kind of got drunk one night, I sort of sneaked up on him and spooked him badly, so he stabbed me with it. Which let to him giving it to me because he felt bad...” As I say this the elf's gaze keeps growing more intense.

“So, you are telling my son stabbed you with it and gave it to you as an apology?” His eyes narrowed again. He seems like the kind of guy who suspects the fast food worker is giving him eight chicken nuggets, instead of nine. O boy. Wait, Son?

“I’m sorry, you wouldn’t happen to be Thranduil's missing deceased reëmbodied father who gave the knife to him as a birthday gift?” I nearly stuttered. Ereinion, where are you? Don't leave me alone in the room with this freak, I feel like he could break me in two like a twig.

“Ehhh, why don’t you keep the knife? I mean, it is technically yours, right? And, oh, you might want to have this.” I rummage through my pocket handing him the folded envelope. He rips it out of my hands and starts reading the letter. He grows redder and redder, one of the veins on his face might burst, his brows form a nearly perfect ‘V’. Oh no, he is going to kill me, this is it, this is how I die, murdered by my crush’s dad and not even because of my awkward flirting.

“To celebrate Thranduil Oropherion’s engagement to Elrond Peredhel. The ceremony will be held on april the 16th?!” The elf roars. I take a step back, trying to get out of punching and stabbing range, not that the small store allows it. And while the words repulsed me, pulling the stitches out of my broken heart, they attracted Ereinion back into the room.

“Elrond?” He says bewildered, clearly having forgotten who yelled the name in the first place. The eyes of the elves lock. Ereinion seems to have immediately regretted his automatic reaction, for the silver haired elves eyes widened in recognition.

“Gil-Galad, you hack, is this where you have been hiding all these years you dishonourable fool!” Now the elf is angry at both of us. Though I am quite surprised by all of this, seeing how highly Thranduil had spoken of his father, with honor, valor and all.

The afternoon ended with a lot of yelling and Ereinion promising Oropher to accompany him to his son's wedding. Which means I’d gotten rid of the letter and the knife and had done a good deed for Thranduil. I feel a little better, lighter, like a new day is on the rise. I breath in and stride on down, back home.

bzzzzzz.  
bzzzzzz.  
I receive an sms. I stop, take the phone out of my pocket and read:

“Heavy snowfall in Lothlorien, our vacation is being extended by two weeks, see you tomorrow. Tilda & Bain.”

I start smiling at the message, rereading it over and over, but I am awaked from my daydream as minutes later my phone vibrates again.

“Finished my research, I'll write the rest of my thesis at home. Try not to burn the ‘welcome home’ brownies. love, Sigrid.”

Guess I'll get to show off my new cooking skills and improved dad jokes. I can't help but feel my smile grow wider, life isn't all that bad.

///// 

Our marriage ceremony wasn’t conventional. It was going to be held in Imladris yet somehow we ended up in Tirion, or well just outside Tirion. We are in a lightly forested area, the trees decorated with white and silver ribbons.

With my father by my side I walk into the clearing filled with chairs. I wear a three layered white robe, my hair has been braided with two side braids ending in a weave braid, silver ribbons braided through. On my head I wear my spring crown adorned in valinorian flowers. 

On the other side of the clearing stands Elrond, next to Celeborn and the twins, wearing a similar garb of black and silver. On his head a silver circlet, his hair partly braided around it. I walk up to him and grab his hands. This is it, an oath between us, made in front of all our friends and family.

“I’d rather not take an oath, but for you? Anyday” Elrond quipped, everyone present laughed. Tears formed in my eyes. I am not alone. I am not useless. I have you, always, forever.

We take our oath, put on our rings, made kindly by Celebrimbor, encouraged by Galadriel’s (not so) gentle persuasion. We kiss, it is the best one yet and turn to the gathering of elves present. 

Well, eh, I’m acutely made aware that it is quite a strange gathering. 

On my side on the clearing sits my father, next to him sits the high-king, somehow Gil-galad is on my side of this event? Next to him is Legolas, who brought a dwarf as his plus one. I would have blown a fuse, but I just married the ellon I made out for a boring bookworm only a year ago, so truly, who am I to judge.

For some reason Elu Thingol and Melian are on my side, the actual Elu and his maia wife. Dior Elluchil is sitting next to them, but Luthien is not? They are like an incomplete family portrait. Wait, we are not even related. He was my king, yes, but isn't he supposed to be on Elrond's side, they are his actual grandfather and great-great parents. I turn to the other side of the clearing and immediately understand.

On the front row sit Arwen and her mortal, who we didn’t want to pressure, so when Elrorir found out where they lived we only sent an invitation and hoped they would share in our new found happiness. 

I can barely tell who, or better said what sits next to her. It looks like a star has come down from the heavens to partake in the festivities. Nearly hidden in its brightness is a... An albatross? I pity Elrond for not even having remotely normal looking parents.

Next to them are the two oldest feanorions and they seem to be glaring at Elrond’s parents and I’m quite sure insults were being thrown around before the ceremony began. Next to them poor little Lindir is fidgeting.

Behind the two Feanorions are the other five, their father, Celbrimbor and his human lover, Talion, I believe. Galadriel is probably for that reason sitting on my side of the clearing as well.

Did my wedding turn into a political statement, a continuation of the first age?  
And now that look a bit further in the back, is that Nolofinwe and his sons and daughter? I guess he is related closer to Elrond than Feanor, but why so far in the back. Now I notice behind the star sits a blond elleth and a mortal. Even further back I see a tall silhouette stand out from the crowd, that is first awakened, Finwë, isn't it, o Eru.

Well, finally spotted Luthien. That next to her is probably Beren.

I look back to my own side of the gathering, feeling like I'll have an aneurysm.

Now I’m sure of it, next to Galion, Feren and Meludir is what must be Finarfin, his sons behind him.

I, I don't even know half of these people personally. Wait, did I invite Thorin and his company? Beorn is there as well? Is the back filled with former Rivendale guests, how many hobbits does Elrond know?

Behind the company of dwarves stands Mithradir, waving like I personally invited him.

I turn to Elrond, “love, how many invites did you send?” I asked him worriedly, feeling one of my eyebrows twitch. I must be at least half as pale as my dress and not even half as sparkly.

He merely smiles, “I was so happy you said yes, I invited everyone I could think of and asked them to invite others.” He beams like the sun itself, how could I possibly be angry at him?

“What would I do without you?” I kissed Elrond again. The crowd cheers.

The party is huge, loud and the best I have ever had. Lindir and Maglor perform a ballad for our first dance. Finwe and Thingol are inspiring everyone to drink till next week, believing modern parties don't hold true to the way of the first born. The former mirkwood elves make sure everyone has a full cup of Dorwinion. The hobbits teach everyone a new dance, Galadriel is swinging with Luthien and Aredhel.

The event almost seems to turn hazy, everywhere I look there is sound, color, happiness. I feel like I am starting to spin in circles. I feel a hand on my hip and one removes a strand of hair from my face. It is stability, clarity, it is Elrond.

“Don’t go making yourself sick now, it is your special day, enjoy it.” He whispers to me holding me close. And I did, I remember every vivid detail, from now on until forever. Every smile, taunt, gift, brawl, song and revelation that party brought. 

Two months after the marriage we finally moved into Elrond's restored house in Imladris. I kiss him on the cheek as I bring the last box inside, where the twins have started painting, Legolas is moving furniture and a visibly pregnant Arwen is orchestrating it all.

I am so glad I got dragged out of my halls, out of the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank for reading all the way through. I know this was kind of a mess, but I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
